Centre Affairs
by Bec-Bec
Summary: Jarod steals valuable Centre information and puts himself into the public eye, the one place the Centre can see him and not touch him. The directive’s the same, his freedom for hers. The field of play, however, is entirely different. FINISHED.
1. Good Evening, Mr Crown

Disclaimer: I can only hope that someday such enthralling and complex characters are my personal creations. Until then, the characters of the Pretender have been borrowed and made to live out various situations at my demand and whim. They are not mine.

Summary: Jarod steals valuable Centre information and puts himself into the public eye, the one place the Centre can see him and not touch him. The directive's the same, his freedom for hers. The field of play, however, is entirely different.

****

Centre Affairs

By Bec-Bec

****

Good Evening, Mr. Crown

"This is Sydney."

"How are Centre affairs?" Jarod opened with a question, his normal phone call routine. Sydney was sure the question was accompanied by a cocky grin, the like of which carried through his voice and across the phone line.

"Chaotic," Sydney replied with a half-smile. "Quite a stunt you pulled, Jarod." His voice hinted at some small form of pride in his protégé.

"They left themselves open. I merely took the opportunity when it presented itself," Jarod stated evenly. 

"The Triumvirate is furious. Mr. Parker and the rest of the Tower are doing everything they can to assure them the information will be recovered. They're considering drastic measures of retaliation. It's getting serious," Sydney's voice warned at the end.

Jarod chuckled. "I wouldn't worry too much, the Centre's hands have been tied, so to speak. They can't touch me where I am and the only way they'll get back the information that I've taken is if they play by my rules."

"It's unlikely that they'll choose to be complaisant with you." Sydney's concern for Jarod's safety was evident in his tone and he was glad that his home had been swept for bugs quite recently. The Centre would not approve of this sort of fraternization with the Pretender, especially under the current circumstances.

"Right now, that's their only option."

"You've certainly planned this escapade out in detail; siphoning information from the Centre mainframe when it was vulnerable, effectively entering the one area where their actions would be limited, even going so far as to give the Centre an ultimatum."

"I was taught to never overlook any variables," Jarod said wryly. There was a bit of shuffling on his end.

"What are you doing?" Sydney questioned.

"Preparing to go out for the evening. This lifestyle requires the occasional night out at benefits or banquets."

"I would ask where you were going, but…" Sydney trailed off.

"But, you already know where I am."

"Yes." Sydney paused. "The Centre knows exactly where you are."

"One of the riskier aspects of this new situation, but it was necessary. If they know where I am, I know where they are." There was more shuffling on Jarod's end of the line.

"I'm concerned, Jarod. I've been reading the reports on your activities. This new persona you've established isn't healthy."

"Ah, Jarod Crown, business prodigy, millionaire, thrill seeker, playboy," Jarod listed coolly, pausing briefly between each designation.

"Yes. His habits seem less than wholesome."

"Opposed to what, Sydney? I'd hardly call the conditions I was used to at the Centre wholesome."

"Human relations, Jarod, are an important aspect of life. From what I've seen, Mr. Crown doesn't handle them well at all." Sydney settled into his chair, preparing for a rather long conversation with his protégé.

"He's just another character in this twisted masquerade known as the Centre."

"Perhaps, but the psychological aspects of the person you portray have an effect on your psyche as well."

"You taught me to separate my pretend from myself, Sydney. I control my pretend, not vice versa."

"Not entirely. Some of his habits mirror yours so closely that aspects of his personality spill over into your own."

"How so?" There was some more shuffling and Jarod's voice sounded distant.

"Consider a small part of your personality, magnified in him, a characteristic of yours increased to fit his appearance and lifestyle. Because that characteristic is already a part of you, it absorbs new qualities from its sudden emergence and enlargement."

Jarod's voice became clearer as he returned to his phone. "An actor becomes his role so completely that it's impossible to discern which aspects of his personality came from him and which came from his character. I studied the phenomena a few months ago for a pretend I was doing. But what evidence of that incorporation do you see in me?"

"Mr. Crown's increasing line of female conquests would hint at an underlying flaw in your nature regarding trust and intimacy. From what I've seen, you've never had a lasting relationship with a woman."

"Giving me unsolicited advice about my sex life, Sydney? Sounds like something you'd do to Miss Parker."

"I'm worried about the psychological implications that a lack of intimacy will have on you," Sydney continued, heedless of Jarod's previous comment. "It's very hard to create a rewarding relationship with someone if you can't trust them."

"Intimacy isn't trust, Sydney."

"But trust leads to intimacy. If you can place your trust in another person, and she can place her trust in you, it will undoubtedly lead to intimacy."

"A woman can trust me."

"But can you trust her?" There was a rather long pause on the phone line. Sydney assumed Jarod was contemplating his last statement. After what Sydney deemed a sufficient length of time, he added. "If you can't trust a woman, you can never truly be intimate with her." There was another pause.

"I have to go Sydney," Jarod finally said.

"Society beckons."

"Yes, there are certain demands on my time now."

"Will you be keeping in touch?"

"We'll see." With that, the line went dead and Sydney was left to ponder the greater ramifications of Jarod's latest game with the Centre.

****

Miss Parker leaned against the bar provocatively, attracting attention from several gentlemen nearby. She coolly ignored their stares, enthralling them further, and surveyed the room, while waiting for the bartender to finish fixing her martini.

Numerous men and women dressed in classy black attire dotted the marble-floored hall. Society's elite, or so they believed themselves to be. Country club members with too much money in the bank and only the vaguest thoughts of philanthropy, flitting around in their aristocratic delusions of grandeur.

The black and white silent charity auction was meant to raise funds for a local children's hospital but was truly all about the "show." The atmosphere was permeated with the general thought: "if you've got it, flaunt it," resulting in a flashy yet elegant display of how many figures appeared on their bank statements at the end of each month. There was enough Versace, Gucci, Armani, Bvlgari and Prada merchandise in the room to pay for an entirely new hospital, though such an idea never seemed to have occurred to any of the current occupants. It was quite a change from wonderboy's usual choice of company.

Turning back toward the bar, Miss Parker picked up her martini from the counter and decided that while she waited for the labrat to make his appearance, she might as well have some fun. There were quite a few wealthy bachelors in attendance, the perfect type of men for short but amusing affairs- men who didn't ask questions and didn't expect answers; men looking to avoid commitments; men who were only interested in the game, and right now, the game was all she needed.

The group of gentlemen that had busied themselves watching her were greeted with the sight of Miss Parker's slinky black dress, fitted to her body like a glove, sliding slowly up and down her thighs as she slipped into the crowd.

Smirking momentarily at the looks she had inspired, Miss Parker began to circle the room slowly, picking up bits and pieces of conversation about the evening's main benefactor: Jarod Crown. The man of the hour himself had yet to arrive but, unlike every other time she had tracked him down, she knew exactly when and where he would be appearing... and he wouldn't be running away.

Jarod had taken it upon himself to change the rules of the chase he had played by for so long with the Centre. "Buying back his freedom," Mr. Parker had called it, "and at great expense to the Centre and its affiliates." Boywonder had finally found a way to get exactly what he wanted and the Centre was far from pleased to be giving it to him. Thus, their ever-ready plan was put into action: send Miss Parker after him to make sure he'd slip up. His freedom for hers. That directive hadn't changed. The field of play, however, was entirely different.

They were in the spotlight now. By joining high society, Jarod had drawn attention to himself, something he had avoided in the past. Now he was in the world's eyes, someplace the Centre could see him but not touch him. Jarod had made himself a security risk to the Centre, a major one, and yet, managed to keep himself beyond their reach. Assassinating him was out of the question; he had made sure of that. "If we take him out, the Centre will be exposed," Mr. Parker had warned the board. "He's done every damn thing possible to make sure we've got one option and one option only: play by his rules or we're out." And so, they had done the only thing possible in their position, sent Miss Parker in.

Miss Parker's circle around the room ended at a doorway directly opposite from where Jarod would enter at precisely eight o'clock. Easing into the conversation nearest to where she was standing, Miss Parker flirted with a young banker, much to the chagrin of a blonde woman, standing next to him, who seemed to have already staked him out for the evening. As the younger man spoke spiritedly to an older couple among the little group about something she had said, Miss Parker smiled devilishly at the blonde. Her evening prospects were looking up.

For the next half-hour, Miss Parker diverted as much attention from the blonde as possible, simultaneously endearing the young banker and enchanting the older couple. But then, these were the sort of people that her father had taught her to charm. She was mildly amused by the girl's annoyance and loved that she could still draw so much attention to herself, despite the assumed ten years she had on the perky blonde. It was only when a familiar figure stepped into the room that Miss Parker took her leave from the group, promising a dance to the young man for later in the evening; a promise she doubted she'd keep.

Making her way back to the bar to refill her martini, Miss Parker watched as Jarod shook hands with the people who began to crowd around him, all hoping to meet the new golden boy. Older men and women of large inheritances, who usually ignored "new money," anxious to meet the bright young man. Young businessmen and businesswomen, of self-created fortunes, hoping to exchange stock tips and new Intel with the latest prodigy of the financial world. Unattached, younger women, hoping to snag the new bachelor of the month. Jarod had certainly drawn nearly all eyes in the room.

With sadistic delight, Miss Parker watched as the blonde woman she had upset earlier tried her luck at gaining Jarod's attention only to have her hand shaken like everyone else and then be ignored. She couldn't help smiling at both the woman's awestruck face and Jarod's oblivious nature around beautiful women. The night was turning out rather enjoyable, despite the fact that she was still tailing the Centre's lab experiment across universe.

When the excitement over Jarod's arrival calmed down sometime later, Miss Parker made her way over to Jarod and the small group he was talking with. Standing just to the side for a moment, to pick up the thread of conversation, she observed Jarod and his interactions with these people; the way his smile never quite reached his eyes, even when he chuckled at an amusing comment. To any casual observer, Jarod would appear as though he were pleasantly enjoying the discussion. However, Miss Parker wasn't a casual observer. She knew when Jarod was immersed in a pretend and, right now, he was every bit the part of Jarod Crown, the clever, unattached businessman.

"Those poor children," an older woman said to Jarod. "It's so kind of you to hold this benefit to raise funds for them."

"Where ever did you find all of the items up for auction?" the woman's husband inquired.

"Oh, you'd be surprised what some people have just lying around," Jarod answered with a grin. "You never know what you might find."

"Indeed," Miss Parker answered smoothly, inserting herself into the conversation. "You'd be quite surprised at what you'll find."

Jarod's eyebrow quirked momentarily at the sight of his huntress, standing before him, obviously dressed for a night out and not their usual game of chase. "Indeed, Miss..." 

Jarod trailed off, maintaining his pretend persona.

"Parker," Miss Parker replied coolly, lightly shaking the hand that Jarod offered her.

"Jarod Crown," he returned, narrowing his eyes almost imperceptibly for a brief moment.

He had expected that the Centre would send someone after him. He had been anticipating it for the last few days. It was a sign that they were either ready to comply or to retaliate. Miss Parker's presence hinted at the latter, which meant the game was about to get more interesting.

"Quite an event you've established, Mr. Crown," Miss Parker said evenly, casting a slow glance at the small clusters of people surrounding them before taking a sip of her martini. 

"Event is a bit of an over statement," Jarod replied with mild amusement. "I merely assisted the meeting of friends for a good cause." 

At some point during Miss Parker and Jarod's exchange, the elderly couple Jarod had been speaking with had moved off to another group of people a few feet away. Miss Parker noted the fact that, despite the eagerness to converse with Jarod the crowd had shown previously, they appeared to have become occupied in smaller, tightly nit groups.

"Not your usual crowd of people," Miss Parker commented casually.

Jarod shrugged. "They're mostly business associates and competitors."

"Schmoozing the rich, Jarod?" She asked dryly, sipping at her martini again.

"Making acquaintances with powerful people in the financial world has its benefits," Jarod replied evenly.

"Especially when you're attempting to house stolen information," Miss Parker responded calmly, heading back toward the bar to have her drink refilled again.

Jarod grinned as she brushed passed him artfully. With Miss Parker heading the Centre's effort to trip him up in his latest endeavor, the game was bound to be more of a challenge, and far more enjoyable.

Turning in the direction she was headed, Jarod followed Miss Parker to the bar, coming up alongside her just as she requested another martini from the bartender.

Smirking, she added, "And a scotch, neat, for Mr. Crown."

"Scotch, neat," Jarod repeated to her. "You've done your homework," he added with a soft chuckle.

"The best way to catch a Pretender is to know all of the aspects of their pretend," Miss Parker commented wryly.

"And what have you learned about Jarod Crown?" he asked with tempered amusement.

"He's a socialite; a business prodigy climbing the ladder quickly and easily via connections and pure, old-fashioned intelligence. He's single, assumably by preference, but not for lack of interest. On the weekend, he enjoys engaging in risky activities purely for the thrill but occasionally settles for a game of golf." Miss Parker picked up her new martini confidently and took a light sip.

"That information's fairly easy to access, you've only touched on the tip of the real Jarod Crown," he smirked with mild satisfaction.

"What else would you like to know?" Miss Parker arched her eyebrow.

"Something other people wouldn't," he replied simply. 

"Despite all of the attention he receives and his vast knowledge, he's bored," she replied easily, taking another sip of her drink.

The corner of Jarod's mouth twitched with amusement. Sipping at his scotch, he commented, "You seem to understand Jarod Crown fairly well."

"Knowing the person he stems from helps implicitly," She remarked plainly. 

Jarod chuckled, "Indeed." 

Turning her eyes on the expansive hall again, Miss Parker commented, "You've drawn attention to yourself, Jarod."

Jarod shrugged. "For now."

"How long do you plan on playing this newest charade of yours?" she asked smoothly

"Until I find what I'm looking for." He placed his drink back on the bar.

Miss Parker smiled bitterly. "The Centre won't let you find what you're looking for."

"They don't have much of a say in the matter," Jarod replied evenly. 

"Perhaps."

Jarod raised his eyebrow with interest. "How is that?"

The corner of Miss Parker's lip curled. "You should never underestimate the realms of their control."

"Likewise, they should never underestimate the realms of my mind." Jarod picked up his scotch and took another sip.

"Ironic how your mind is the very thing that they're after." 

Jarod nodded. "It does hold a certain irony, doesn't it. But then, it always has."

"They won't let you get what you want," Miss Parker said softly.

"And I won't give up until I get it."

Placing her drink on the bar, Miss Parker replied, "Then it appears the game will continue. Good evening, Mr. Crown." She slipped passed him and headed for the door.

Jarod grinned as he placed his drink on the bar as well, then followed her.

Miss Parker knew he was following her. She had expected that he would. It was almost a ritual that he be the one to end their conversation.

"The parameters of the game aren't quite the same, Miss Parker; I would hardly call it a continuation."

Smirking, Miss Parker answered, "I wouldn't say it was entirely the same, no, but the elements are fairly similar."

"To a point." Jarod walked alongside her, his eyes narrowed slightly as he thought. "I've altered most of the variables, particularly the way in which the chase is played. This setting calls for a more intimate interaction with the Centre."

"There's an inherent contradiction: intimacy and the Centre," Miss Parker remarked with amusement.

"It's necessary to keep them close," Jarod continued. "This lifestyle allows direct contact while limiting the Centre's options."

"Effectively giving you access to what you're looking for with little hindrance from the Centre."

Jarod nodded. "It's so fundamentally simple, I'm surprised I hadn't thought of it before."

Miss Parker chuckled. "Situations involving the Centre are rarely simple."

"Perhaps." Jarod held the door open for Miss Parker as they stepped out of the hallway into the cool night air.

"Thank you."

"I expect I'll be seeing you soon, the Centre will be keeping a close watch on me, I presume."

Miss Parker nodded. "Very close."

"Tomorrow then?" Jarod inquired.

"Most likely." Miss Parker had stopped at the curb, where the limousine she had taken earlier in the evening waited.

Jarod opened the door for her and held it as she gracefully slid in. "Dinner?"

Miss Parker contemplated for a moment. "You're on."

"I'll call."

"Of course," Miss Parker said blandly.

Au demain," Jarod said with a smile, closing the door of the limo.

As the limousine slipped away in the hum of city traffic, disappearing into a sea of lights, Jarod watched pensively. 

He had known that Miss Parker would play some role in his latest venture, most of his interactions with the Centre involved her in some way. However, his increased contact with the Centre meant increased contact with her as well, something he hadn't quite expected. And, if their conversation that evening was any indication, the change in setting had caused a change in their communication as well. Miss Parker had been remarkably… civil. A fact that would make any exchanges between them, under the new circumstances, entirely different than they had been in the past.

The street light on the corner flickered, breaking Jarod from his thoughts. Remarkably, in a city so full of people, he was the only one on the sidewalk at the moment, leaving him to revel in the sounds of the city at night alone. The gentle murmur of the traffic, the glow of lights, the living, breathing feeling of the air. Jarod stood still, absorbing it all for a moment, as he contemplated the development of Miss Parker's direct involvement in his current pretend.

Eventually, he turned back toward the building where the silent auction was being held, leaving the sound and feel of the city behind. Jarod Crown didn't marvel in the simple beauty of the city.

Slipping back into character, he paused at the door, staring momentarily in the direction Miss Parker's limousine had traveled, before walking back into the building. The game was most definitely about to get more interesting.

Author's Note: If you've seen the movie this is based on, it's fairly easy to surmise the direction of the plot… though I have a few twists up my sleeve. Hopefully my writer's block will stay away long enough to come up with the second chapter to this within a reasonable amount of time. Thanks for reading. Love ya!


	2. Dining with Mr Crown

Disclaimer: I can only hope that someday such enthralling and complex characters are my personal creations. Until then, the characters of the Pretender have been borrowed and made to live out various situations at my demand and whim. They are not mine.

Summary: Jarod steals valuable Centre information and puts himself into the public eye, the one place the Centre can see him and not touch him. The directive's the same, his freedom for hers. The field of play, however, is entirely different.

Author's Note: As clarification, this is based on the 1999 remake of The Thomas Crown Affair, starring Pierce Brosnan and Rene Russo.

****

Centre Affairs

By Bec-Bec

Chapter 2

****

Dining with Mr. Crown

"This is Sydney."

"It appears the Centre is ready to counteract my plans," Jarod replied to Sydney's usual phone greeting.

"How so?" Sydney questioned.

"At first, I thought their choice of Miss Parker as negotiator was a bit odd, then I realized she was the perfect person for the job - she knows how to walk the high-wire best. Of course, you can't really fight fire with fire. That's a misjudgment on their part."

Jarod's statement indirectly answered Sydney's question but led him to ask another. "What do you plan to do now?"

"I expected them to send someone sooner, actually. It's the action I've anticipated from them since the beginning. However, it seems they're a bit behind the curve."

"Not all things follow plans or patterns, that possibility for random events is what keeps life from becoming one large equation with set variables and numeric values."

"A clever bit of wisdom, Sydney, but it's fairly irrelevant at the moment."

"Then you assumed Miss Parker would be the operative they would send after you?" Sydney asked with interest.

"Isn't she always?" Jarod replied with amusement.

Sydney chuckled in response, then added, "It will make the game you've begun more challenging."

"I'm counting on it."

"She always has been a worthy adversary for you, ever since you were both children. Your intelligence and her tenacity make the two of you closely matched rivals."

"Indeed."

Sydney smiled softly. "You're enjoying the fact that they've chosen Miss Parker to follow you."

"It's an entertainment." Jarod paused. "For the time being."

"You sound as though very little entertains you, which is quite the opposite, from what I've observed."

"Everyone gets bored eventually, Sydney."

"Boredom can be a dangerous thing, Jarod," Sydney warned. "If you've started this game with the Centre out of boredom, you've taken a large risk just to 'cure the itch,' so to speak."

"That's not why I started this."

"Then why?" Sydney finally asked the question he had been waiting to ask all along.

"To find what I'm looking for: my parents; my family; the truth."

"It's unlikely that the information you've taken will lead you to any of those things. From what I heard, the area of the Centre's mainframe that you breached and deleted was only of financial importance to the Centre."

"I can become anything I want to be, Sydney, disguising information is hardly a challenge."

Sydney smiled; Jarod's plan was incredibly clever, but so fundamentally simple. He couldn't help but be proud of the Pretender. "How much did you take?"

"Enough," Jarod replied simply.

"Have you found what you were looking for yet?"

"Some of it."

"Do you think you'll find all of what you're after?"

"We'll see."

"What will you do when you have all of the answers you're looking for? Will you continue your game with the Centre?"

There was a long span of silence. Finally, Jarod replied, "It depends, some answers lead to more questions." A soft click echoed over the line as Jarod hung up on his mentor yet again.

Sydney contemplated Jarod's odd reply to his question with the phone hanging limply in his hand. Eventually, he placed the phone back in it's cradle and left to go to the Centre, all the while, wondering what answers Jarod had found and what new questions had arisen from their discovery.

****

"What the hell was that last night, Parker?" Lyle stormed through the door and into the tech room on SL-5.

Miss Parker maintained her position, standing over Broots' shoulder as he typed commands into his computer. Without flinching, and barely acknowledging that Lyle had entered the room, she replied, "My job."

Lyle continued on furiously. "Since when does your job involve directly disobeying Centre orders? You waltzed in there without one word to Dad, the Centre, or the Triumvirate."

"I had a chat with Wonderboy, so sue me," Miss Parker sneered, her attention turning to her irate brother.

"You compromised the Centre's retaliation plans," Lyle raged on.

Miss Parker stepped away from Broots computer desk, where the techie was struggling not to stare at the theatrics of the two Parker twins, and closer to her brother. "No, I jump started the Centre's retaliation plans."

Lyle scoffed. "Since when do dinner plans with the Centre's lab rat qualify as part of the Centre's retaliation plans?"

"My orders are to keep track of Boywonder and trip up whatever the hell he's got planned. If the Centre doesn't like the way I'm handling the situation, they can take their retaliation plans and stick them where the sun don't shine."

"Don't piss with the Centre, Parker. You know damn well what your orders are."

Miss Parker moved closer to her brother, until she was standing right in front of him, and hissed, "Yes, I do, and, unless you or the Triumvirate goons can come up with a better way to get close to Jarod, I suggest you stay out of my way."

Lyle smirked as Miss Parker inched closer, an intimidation tactic that had absolutely no effect on him. "God, you're beautiful when you're angry."

Miss Parker sneered in disgust and shoved her brother away from her. He laughed as he stumbled away. "Stay the hell out of it, Lyle. Leave Jarod to me."

"Hey, no skin off my nose. If you want to go traipsing around with the Centre's science project, go right ahead. Just don't do anything to draw any unwanted attention to the Centre."

"Don't worry, dear brother. I would never draw any unwanted attention to you or your," she paused to sneer again, "activities."

Lyle's eyes narrowed. "Like I said, Parker, don't piss with the Centre, we're on this."

"So am I," Miss Parker retorted with a hiss.

"Right, your dinner plans." Lyle's voice was filled with sarcasm.

Miss Parker stalked toward her twin again. "I do my job my way. Jarod likes the high wire, the chase. Keeping him close is the best plan and you damn well know it."

"How close do you plan to get? Close enough for it to become a question as to who's playing whom?"

Miss Parker's eyes flashed and Lyle laughed in his folly. He was enjoying getting a rise out of her immensely.

"Stay the hell out it, Lyle."

"Hey, I'm just trying to look out for you, sis," Lyle said innocently. "You can do whatever you want with boy wonder, just remember that there are repercussions for your actions."

"Aren't there some Asian women on SL-7 to occupy you?" Miss Parker suggested derisively.

Lyle chuckled. "Actually, I have plans to search Jarod's house in Manhattan. Care to join me?" he asked with a smirk.

Miss Parker smirked back. "Of course." There was no way in hell Jarod would allow them to search his house, and Parker knew it. Watching Lyle make an ass of himself, however, made her accompaniment well worth the trip.

****

Jarod's house in Manhattan was located in a dignified neighborhood, tastefully low-key but charming nevertheless. When the Centre's black town cars pulled up on his street, they were complimentary to the richer tones of the buildings, blending in with the dark color of the wrought iron fences that partitioned one house from the next. The blend of color allowed them to enter the area without drawing too much attention to their presence.

Sam stopped Lyle and Parker's car directly in front of Jarod's house, double-parking along the crowded street.

"Motel 6 to the Ritz-Carlton," Lyle commented, as he opened his car door and stepped out. "Apparently the cockroaches aren't Jarod's friends anymore."

Miss Parker stayed in her seat and Lyle stuck his head back into the car. "Coming, Parker?"

"No, unlike you, I prefer not to make an ass of myself."

Lyle sneered. "Suit yourself." Straightening his suit, he shut the door and motioned for the sweepers in the other car to follow him.

Miss Parker watched Lyle knock on the door and subsequently enter the house, as Jarod's housekeeper held the door open for them. A Centre hire, no doubt. Though, she was sure Jarod knew that. Narrowing her eyes, she called to Sam in the front seat, who had stayed behind with her. "Sam, follow them. Keep an eye on Lyle, the twisted little monkey is getting too cocky, make sure he doesn't do anything stupid."

"Yes, Miss Parker," the sweeper replied, exiting the car. In all honesty, he was anxious to watch his boss' twin get cut down a few notches. After tracking Jarod with Miss Parker all of these years, he was sure entering the Pretender's lair, especially while he was still occupying it, wasn't as simple as Lyle assumed it would be.

Sam climbed the steps to the porch and entered the house without knocking on the door, a bit surprised that the door wasn't locked. When he got inside, he noticed that Lyle and the other sweepers were stopped just beyond the entryway. Standing in front of them, was Jarod, whose brow was furrowed. 

"Excuse me, but why are you in my house?" Jarod questioned.

"We're here to conduct a legal search of the premises, Mr. Crown." Lyle replied, accentuating the words "Mr. Crown" mockingly, and flashing a badge along with what Sam assumed was an illegitimate warrant. 

Jarod didn't react to the taunt. "Why?"

Lyle glared at the housekeeper, who was standing behind the Pretender. The housekeeper just smirked. "I'm sure it's a mystery to you, but your lawyer will be able to explain," Lyle commented snidely. He had been prepared for this sort of situation, but the fact that his inside man had turned really pissed him off.

Jarod called out to someone else that was apparently in the house. "Wallace!" As the man Jarod had called for walked into the room, from Jarod's den, Jarod gestured to him. "This gentleman happens to be my attorney."

The attorney took the warrant and looked it over closely. A few hushed words passed between the gentleman and Lyle before he motioned for the sweepers to exit the building. Jarod smirked as Lyle turned to him disgustedly. "Good day, Mr. Crown," Lyle again added a mocking accentuation to the words "Mr. Crown."

As Lyle stalked toward the door, Jarod's eyes narrowed slightly as they fell on Sam, who was still standing by the entryway. Sam simply turned and exited the building in response

When Lyle angrily re-entered the car, Miss Parker smirked. 

"Apparently, Jarod's gotten to our inside man," Lyle said with disgust.

"Let me guess, Wonderboy was home?"

Lyle eyed her suspiciously. "Yes."

Miss Parker grinned wickedly. "It's Sunday, Lyle. Where the hell did you expect him to be?"

"Out, doing whatever the hell it is that he does. You might have mentioned that you knew he'd be home. We're lucky his lawyer didn't decide to press charges for unlawful entry."

"No, you're lucky," she replied acidly. "If you had been doing your job, you would have known Jarod's schedule."

"So what the hell was this, Parker, some pitiful attempt to get back at me for this morning?"

"No," Miss Parker sneered. "Some of us have more important things to do than spend our time plotting revenge on weaker minds. This was about teaching you to think before you do something stupid and get your sorry ass into a situation that you can't weasel your way out of. Or, do I need to remind you why you're missing a thumb? Never tango with someone who can outwit you."

"Thanks for the dancing lessons, sis," Lyle retorted snidely. "Sam," Lyle called to the sweeper, who had retaken his position in the driver's seat. "Drive back to Blue Cove," he ordered icily. "We wouldn't want Miss Parker to be late for her date."

Sam followed Lyle's orders without question, driving the two Parker twins back to their "office," as Miss Parker chuckled amusedly at a glowering Lyle.

****

"What?" Her phone greeting was nearly a cliché by now.

"It's so hard to find good hired help these days. You just can't trust people anymore," Jarod remarked.

"Your housekeeper seems to be fairly loyal," Miss Parker replied coolly.

"Yes, well, Paul is an exceptional find. It's a pity the Centre got to him first."

"I gather he's been excised from the Centre's grasp, according to the reports I've received anyway."

"I'm sure Sam's report is more than accurate. He seemed to have been there merely to observe."

"Well, I have to keep track of my dear brother's activities somehow."

"Ah, how is Mr. Lyle? Not too upset I hope? After all, a failed plan like that... well, it can have less than positive effects on a person's ego," Jarod replied cheekily.

"Not hardly. He's too arrogant to admit that you outsmarted him this morning. Nice trick with your lawyer, by the way."

"Thank you. Wallace just happened to be over for brunch." Miss Parker was sure he was smirking like the cat that ate the canary.

"I'm sure oiling up your lawyer has its advantages."

"Indeed."

The phone line went silent. "What time am I supposed to meet you," Miss Parker asked after a moment.

Jarod chuckled. "What sort of gentleman would Mr. Crown be if he had you meet him somewhere? I'll be by to pick you up at seven."

"Coming to Blue Cove? Pretty gutsy move, isn't it, Jarod?"

"Not really. The Centre knows better than to try anything. If something happens to me, they'll be exposed. One of the advantages of putting myself in the public spotlight was the fact that the Centre would be forced to accept the possibility of my leaking their business to people who shouldn't be aware of its existence. If my people find out I've been harmed in any way, they have instructions to release everything I've given them through the appropriate channels."

"How do you know you can trust your people?"

Jarod chuckled. "Let's just say they aren't particularly thrilled with the Centre's involvement in their lives either. A few of them owe me a favor or two."

"Isn't all of this putting them at risk as well?"

"Not in the slightest. The Centre can never find them, once the information is released, it's untraceable."

"It would be a pity to find out there's a hole in your plan," Miss Parker suggested

"If there is, I very much doubt the Centre will find it," Jarod replied with amusement.

"We won't give up, you know," Miss Parker said coolly.

"I'd be hugely disappointed if you did." Jarod hung up with a click.

"Smug bastard," Miss Parker said to the dial tone. 

****

Jarod arrived at Miss Parker's house at precisely seven o'clock. She would have been annoyed at his punctuality if she hadn't expected him to be irritatingly prompt. His Rolls Royce pulled into her driveway just as the grandfather clock she kept in her den struck the hour. There was a knock on the door several seconds later.

"You sure as hell know how to arrive in style, don't you, Lab rat?" Miss Parker muttered as she opened her front door to the sight of a dignified looking man. 

"Miss Parker?" he inquired.

"Yes."

"Mr. Crown said you would be expecting us." He turned and led her to the car, holding open the rear door for her.

Miss Parker climbed in gracefully, thanking the driver.

"You look wonderful tonight," Jarod's voice said from beside her as she settled in. She knew he was admiring her dress, another low cut black number, seductive but simple.

"Thank you. How are you?" She said, turning to face him.

"Popular." Jarod glanced through the rear window at a black town car parked down the street. Parker assumed the car had been following him the entire day. "I seem to have developed some admirers."

"You knew they'd be watching."

Jarod nodded slightly.

The majority of their car ride was silent, broken rarely by chitchat about the weather and other cordial niceties.

Jarod had made reservations at a restaurant in New Jersey, a classy establishment, mildly less flashy than the places Miss Parker knew he dined in Manhattan. His choice of a smaller, more intimate, setting was out of character for Mr. Crown, though entirely in character for Jarod. Some part of her wondered who exactly she was having dinner with- Jarod Crown, the calm and casual businessman, or Jarod, the Centre's lab rat and her childhood friend. Perhaps it was some combination of them both. In either case, she wasn't quite sure what to expect from the evening.

When they had been seated, Jarod commented, "I am a bit surprised you agreed to dinner."

"I'm a bit surprised you asked. People don't usually dine with their enemy."

"I'd hardly call you an enemy."

Miss Parker chuckled. "I'm your adversary, at the least."

"Adversaries aren't always enemies, merely opponents."

"In the strictest sense, I suppose."

"Generally, well matched opponents."

Miss Parker gave a wry half-smile. "I'll take that as a compliment, considering you seem to be in search of something to keep you entertained."

"A good match is fairly hard to find," Jarod replied evenly.

"Indeed."

The waiter came just as Miss Parker responded to Jarod. "Good evening sir, ma'am."

"Good evening," Jarod said plainly.

Miss Parker's eyes narrowed ever so slightly at Jarod's tone. At some points during their conversation, he was Jarod, and at others he was Mr. Crown.

"What would you like to drink, sir?"

"Scotch, neat. And, I guess the lady would like..." Jarod trailed off, staring with a smirk at Miss Parker.

"What?" she asked with tempered amusement.

"That the lady would like champagne," Jarod finished.

The waiter named some rather expensive selection from a particularly good year and Miss Parker smiled as she said, "That sounds great, thank you."

When the waiter had left the table again, Miss Parker commented dryly, "You've been busy."

Jarod chuckled. "Not really. That particular piece of information fell into my lap a few years ago."

"Very few people know that I prefer champagne with my dinner."

Smirking, Jarod said, "It seemed fair enough. You know so much about me, I know almost everything there is to know about you."

"I know everything about your pretend, that's different."

"Perhaps."

"Tell me, Jarod, what else have you learned about me over the years?" Miss Parker asked with tempered amusement.

"Quite a bit. There is one thing that's always puzzled me though."

"Oh?"

"Well, it's obvious that you enjoy male companions but you never keep any of them around for very long."

Miss Parker turned her eyes away for a moment before focusing back on Jarod, "My lifestyle doesn't really allow for lasting relationships. Besides, men make women messy."

Jarod eyed her pensively as the waiter returned with their drinks.

After the waiter poured her champagne, Miss Parker thanked him and picked up her drink. Jarod raised his scotch to her glass.

"Here's to the fear of getting caught."

They both sipped lightly at their drinks and the conversation resumed with its previous formality.

****

"What are they doing?" Lyle spoke into his cell phone.

Willie answered from the other end. "They just received their drinks, sir."

"Do they know you're there?"

"I doubt it. The other sweepers and I have been very discreet."

"Just make sure it stays that way. The last thing I need is for Miss Parker to find out that I sent my own people to watch her."

"Mr. Lyle, sir, with all due respect, from what I've seen, Miss Parker is a formidable woman, I'm sure she can take care of herself."

"I'm not taking any chances. Jarod's changed the rules of this whole goddam fiasco. If he tries anything with her I'll make sure he pays."

"Sir, their dinner just arrived."

"Call me back when she gets home. And, Willie, if anything happens to her, Raines will be in need of a new personal henchman, understand?"

"Yes, sir."

****

"Here's the fish for the lady," the waiter said as he placed a dish in front of Miss Parker, "and the lamb chops for the gentleman."

Before the waiter left, Jarod said, "We'd like to pre-order soufflés and I'd like to send a bottle of burgundy to those gentlemen over there." Jarod gestured to four men in suits sitting at a table across the restaurant. Miss Parker turned her head to see whom he was referring to.

"Of course, sir. Enjoy."

"Thank you very much." When the waiter had left he added, "If I'm not mistaken, Willie is among those sweepers."

"I'm sure my dear brother sent Raines' lap dog to keep an eye on me. He claims to be concerned about the way I'm handling the chase with you."

"You're handling the chase quite well, from what I can see. But then, you always have."

"Complimenting my skills again, Jarod? If I were that good, I'd have caught you already."

"You've certainly come close."

"Close is a lingerie shop without a front window."

Jarod stared at her, seemingly puzzled but with a blank face. Miss Parker merely smirked in response, noting that, even in the character of a playboy, Jarod didn't understand innuendo.

"I presume Lyle objects to your becoming socially involved with me."

"Yes."

Jarod's eyes glittered faintly. "It's not as though you would let that stop you though, you like the chase too much."

Miss Parker nodded.

"I've noticed that not many women get the chase, men don't really let them in the game."

"They don't think we have the mind for it," Miss Parker stated plainly.

"I'm sure you've taught quite a few of them a lesson on just who is doing the running and who is doing the chasing."

Miss Parker chuckled. "I have. Some of them refuse to learn, of course," she said coolly.

Jarod's eyes narrowed as he asked sternly, "May I ask you a personal question, Miss Parker?"

"Yes," Miss Parker said, faintly surprised. 

"Would you like an espresso?"

Miss Parker raised her eyebrow, remarking dryly, "That's your personal question."

"Yes," Jarod smiled.

"May I ask you a personal question, Jarod?"

"Yes." Jarod was amused by her response to his incredibly impersonal question.

"Do you really think you can attempt to seduce me this way?"

Jarod chuckled. "I don't presume to be able to make you do anything you don't want to do, Miss Parker."

"Good," Miss Parker said evenly as she stood. 

Jarod stood as well. "Shall we?"

"Yes."

Jarod nodded to the sweepers who were all staring grimly at them. One even went as far as to raise a glass of the burgundy they had received to Jarod and nod back with a bemused smile. Jarod contained his amusement as Willie sneered at him. The public area and orders from the Triumvirate limited the sweepers' actions, so they provided little trouble as Jarod and Miss Parker left the restaurant.

Again, their ride in the car was silent, interrupted only intermittently by small talk. It was fairly late in the evening when Jarod's car pulled into Miss Parker's driveway again. Jarod walked her to the door and they paused on the landing.

"I'd invite you inside..." she trailed off

"But the world is watching," Jarod finished.

"Yes, they are."

"I'll call."

"Of course."

Miss Parker leaned into Jarod and kissed him brazenly on the cheek. "Good evening, Mr. Crown."

Jarod smiled. "Miss Parker."

****

"She's home?" Lyle asked

"Yes, sir."

"Alone?"

"Yes, sir."

Lyle disconnected the call, staring pensively into space. Whatever game Jarod and Miss Parker were playing with each other, there was no way in hell he was going to advocate their getting any closer to each other than they already were.

Author's Note: Chapter two decided to grace the pages rather quickly… I dare say that it wrote itself. Thanks to Maestra for giving it a once over *mad huggles* I love her to pieces. Until next time. Adieu.


	3. Everything Is Never Quite Enough

Disclaimer: I can only hope that someday such enthralling and complex characters are my personal creations. Until then, the characters of the Pretender have been borrowed and made to live out various situations at my demand and whim. They are not mine.

Summary: Jarod steals valuable Centre information and puts himself into the public eye, the one place the Centre can see him and not touch him. The directive's the same, his freedom for hers. The field of play, however, is entirely different.

Author's note: If you object to seductive and insinuative dancing being placed underneath a PG-13 rating, I don't suggest you go to a movie theatre anytime soon, as most things in a PG-13 movie are even racier. I don't feel that this chapter warrants an R rating, as it's not especially explicit, so much as suggestive, but you've been warned. The f-word appears once, for explanatory purposes, which is most certainly allowable within the realm of PG-13 movies without having to slap a huge warning on it for language. In any case, if that bothers you, again, you've been warned

The chapter title comes from a beautiful song by the French artist Wasis Diop, available on his album Toxu and appearing on the 1999 Thomas Crown Affair Soundtrack.

****

Centre Affairs

By Bec-Bec

Chapter 3

****

Everything Is Never Quite Enough

"This is Sydney." Before he had even picked up the phone, Sydney knew whose voice would greet him on the other end of the line.

"How do porcupines mate?" Jarod asked without pre-amble.

"It's been ages since I've heard this joke, but if I remember correctly, the answer is: very carefully."

"Carefully." Jarod paused. "Or unsuccessfully. You don't see many porcupines."

"Creatures with highly evolved defense systems rarely form rewarding relationships." Sydney stopped to think for a moment. "What's drawn your attention to this topic?"

"Nothing in particular, it was merely an observation."

Sydney's brow furrowed. "I very much doubt that you brought it up without a reason. Though, I can guess fairly easily - Miss Parker."

"Yes."

"I'm vaguely concerned about your intentions with regards to Miss Parker."

"Why?"

"It's one thing to play head games with the Centre, Jarod, and quite another to play them with Miss Parker."

"Who exactly are you concerned about, Sydney?" Jarod questioned sternly. "We both know Miss Parker can take care of herself."

"I'm concerned for you both. Despite what either of you believes, the games you play with each other have vast repercussions on both of your subconsciences. Whether you're playing the chase for the Centre or not, I sincerely discourage your creating an illusion of something you don't truly feel."

"Even the greatest pretend is based on some existing feeling within its pretender."

"But if the feeling is being amplified and projected for appearances, it's nearly as false as one that was created that does not exist at all. If you intend to pursue a relationship with Miss Parker, it should be based on something more than the facades you've both adopted for this round of the chase."

"More unsolicited advice about my sex life, Sydney. I'll keep it under consideration."

"Don't make her another trophy in Mr. Crown's collection of female conquests, Jarod. She deserves better than that."

"I very much doubt that Miss Parker would do anything she didn't want to, Sydney."

"This is about more than taking advantage of the situation you've created. If, after you have found what you are looking for and the pretend ends, you resume life away from the persona of Mr. Crown, you will regret having played a person that has been such an intrical part of your life."

"How do you know she's not playing me, Sydney? We both know Miss Parker is capable of less than honorable acts."

"That's my point, Jarod, she'd be just as much to blame as you would. But, mark my words, neither one of you would walk away unscathed."

"I know what I'm doing, Sydney." Jarod hung up.

Sydney closed his eyes and shook his head. "I hope so, Jarod." After a moment, he echoed to his empty studio, "I hope so."

****

Miss Parker sat in the Centre's car, paying close attention to Jarod's front door.

"Miss Parker, won't Mr. Lyle be upset that you've, uh, left him behind at the Centre without telling him what you were doing?" Broots said from his seat next to her.

"Since when do I report my actions to my brother?" Her eyes remained focused outside of her backseat window.

"Well, um, never. But, he's going to be upset, and..."

"Stop you're whining, Broots, I'll take care of my brother," Miss Parker said sternly. "Jarod is my business, not his."

"Um, what exactly are we here to do?"

Miss Parker opened her door and stepped gracefully from the car, replying, "We're here to break in."

Broots swallowed hard and blinked. "B-break in? To Jarod's house?"

"Yes," Miss Parker hissed, dropping her head back through the door. "Scared, Broots?" Miss Parker asked with a snide smirk.

"No," Broots said softly. Miss Parker raised an eyebrow, causing him to reassert in a stronger voice, "no."

"Then hurry up. We've only got forty minutes before his housekeeper gets back." Miss Parker stalked briskly away from the car, leaving Broots to get out himself. Sam followed her closely, with Broots trailing awkwardly behind the large sweeper.

"Cover us, Sam," Miss Parker requested of the sweeper.

Miss Parker deftly picked the lock on Jarod's front door and the trio slipped inside quickly. Flicking her hand up, she stopped Broots from traveling past the foyer and tilted her head toward the alarm panel on the wall.

"You've got exactly thirty seconds to crack it."

Broots went to work on the alarm panel quickly, concentrating on the latest task Miss Parker had given him, while trying to ignore the fact that his safety always seemed to be put at risk to get information she was after.

Miss Parker focused on her wristwatch. "Twenty seconds, Broots."

She watched the techie work rapidly.

"Ten seconds."

Several intense moments passed and Miss Parker's cool demeanor became tempered by a barely visible amount of anxiety. With two seconds left, there was a beep and the alarm disarmed.

"Got it," Broots said breathlessly.

Miss Parker's cool face was back in place. "Good work, Broots." She wandered out of the entryway and into Jarod's house, leaving the sweeper and the techie at the front door.

Broots blinked at the alarm panel a few times before turning toward the stern faced sweeper and then back to his boss. "Uh, um, Miss Parker, what exactly are we looking for?"

"The information Jarod's stolen," Miss Parker hissed with annoyance. "I didn't schlep all the way out here just to take a tour of Wonderboy's house." She turned back toward the two men. "Sam, search the first floor. Broots, look in Jarod's office, check his computer, see if you can find his laptop or any extraneous hard drives."

Sam headed away without question, leaving Broots at the front door, standing out of place in the stylish room. Eventually, Broots walked cautiously out of the room towards Jarod's office, trying to avoid bumping into anything that looked moderately expensive.

Miss Parker walked around the front room slowly, absorbing every aspect of it. Jarod's house was the polar opposite of every one of his lairs. Where the dingy hotel rooms he usually stayed in spoke of cockroaches, scanty towels, and sheets with cigarette burns, his house was full of marble floors, plush velvet carpet, sculptures and expensive artwork.

One particular painting, on the wall above the stairwell, drew her attention longer than the other items decorating the room. It was a large gold-framed work, most likely oils but possibly acrylics, of a woman on a sailboat. She was sitting on the edge of the boat, her body drawn back and her hair flowing in the ocean breeze. Her mouth and face were held in a look of ecstasy and Parker wondered why Jarod would have hung such a sensual piece of art in such a conspicuous area.

After a moment of reflecting on Jarod's odd style of decoration, she climbed the stairs, past the painting, to search the second floor of Jarod's house.

The second floor offered the same bacheloresque elegance as the first. Polished wood, soft carpeting, the darker, harder edges and colors of a businessman's house.

Miss Parker wasn't sure what propelled her to look in Jarod's bedroom first. She very much doubted he'd hide Centre information in some place as personal as his room, much less, the house at all. Nevertheless, she had been drawn to search the building, and, more specifically, his bedroom.

The same soft carpeting that covered the stairwell and hallway continued into Jarod's bedroom. Its rich color was accented by Jarod's furniture, obviously expensive, hand-carved wood. His room, like the rest of the house, displayed several pieces of artwork, none of which were as captivating or provocative as the one she had seen downstairs. Every item had a lavish but unused air; impersonal to an extreme.

As Miss Parker walked slowly through the room, she stopped to study the line of pictures adorning Jarod's dresser. Each frame held a portrait of a different woman, all beautiful but seemingly dispassionate. Some were signed and Miss Parker vaguely recognized the faces of women who usually graced the covers of fashion magazines. Her mind registered that they were a type of trophy. Each face belonged to a woman Jarod had slept with at some point during his pretend. Jarod Crown was, after all, a playboy - the type to engage in tawdry affairs, the short sexual relationships that she herself engaged in.

Running her forefinger along the dresser, past each photo, she wondered how far into his pretend Jarod had immersed himself. Whether the pictures had been fabricated; an illusion created to fit Jarod's current lifestyle, like the rest of the objects decorating his house, or if they actually held merit and truth.

Moving away from the dresser, she made the necessary checks underneath Jarod's bed, inside of his closet, and through his drawers. She didn't find the information she was looking for and left the room, going through the same motions in the other rooms along the hallway.

Her search upstairs was fruitless, offering only more ornate and useless items. Miss Parker had to hand it to Jarod; he had certainly gone to every length to assume the role of Jarod Crown. By all appearances, he was exactly what he pretended to be.

When she joined Broots in Jarod's office, she felt like she was stepping into an executive's office at a powerful corporation rather than Jarod's work room. There were no familiar PEZ dispensers or little toys lying around. Everything was neat and organized, designed for efficiency. For the second time that day, Miss Parker wondered how much of Jarod's pretend was no longer a pretend at all.

"I may have found what we're looking for," Broots mumbled distractedly, when he noticed that Miss Parker had entered the room. "I hacked into Jarod's computer and ran a full trace on his system with a program I created to track files that came from the Centre mainframe."

Miss Parker took up her normal position, behind Broots. "How exactly does it work?"

"Well, the Centre has a special computer code embedded into all of its files. See, they weren't generated by a normal program and they also can't be accessed by most programs, particularly those available to the general public."

"Makes sense; that way, any idiot with Microsoft or a knowledge of DOS can't breach the mainframe."

"Right. It really is an ingenious system. The only way you can possibly hack the files is if you have a knowledge of the original code, and the only way you would know the code is if..."

"You worked in the Centre, or created the code yourself," Miss Parker finished with disdain. "Jarod's probably the one that created the damn program in the first place."

"It doesn't make sense though. Why would he have waited so long to hack the mainframe if he'd known how to do it all along?" Broots asked.

"He wouldn't." Miss Parker started pacing behind Broots. "Which means he got the code from someone inside of the Centre." She stopped and turned back to the Broots. "How many of the technicians besides you have clearance to access the code?"

"Um, three or four. But, the Tower has the original. Anything we're given on the tech floor has slight modifications to it."

Miss Parker narrowed her eyes. "Well, someone is leaking information to Jarod. When we get back to the Centre, I want you to find out exactly how many people know the code and run a background check on all of them."

Broots nodded just as Sam entered the room. "How much longer do we have, Sam?" Miss Parker asked, without bothering to ask if he'd found anything.

"Ten minutes," the Sweeper answered.

"You've got five minutes, Broots," Miss Parker instructed. She left the room with Sam in tow.

The techie quickly set about copying the gathered files to a ZIP disk.

****

"Why the hell wasn't I informed that you were going to Jarod's house today?" Lyle stalked angrily into the Sim-lab the minute he was told Miss Parker had returned.

Broots was already hard at work retrieving the files he'd copied from Jarod's computer.

Miss Parker smirked. "What? Upset that I managed to break in without getting caught and you didn't?"

Lyle's eyes narrowed as he continued acidly, "This has nothing to do with that. You had an obligation to report to me."

"Bullshit. I report to the Centre, not you," Miss Parker hissed.

"Look, I don't know what the hell you're up to, Parker, but sneaking around behind the Centre's back isn't going to accomplish anything but another unpleasant encounter with the Triumvirate," Lyle warned coldly.

"The Triumvirate can go to hell for all I care," Miss Parker sneered. "The Africans are your business, Lyle, not mine."

"The Africans are _our_ business," Lyle retorted evenly. "If the Triumvirate gets upset with the Centre, we're the ones who take the fall. Maybe you'd stop to consider that fact if you weren't so busy trying to seduce the lab rat."

Miss Parker's head snapped up and her eyes flashed. "Quite contrary, Jarod is the one trying to seduce me," she replied coolly, though it was easy to see he had gotten a rise out of her.

Lyle chuckled. "You really are beautiful when you're angry," he smirked.

"Go to hell, Lyle."

"Um," Broots interrupted the latest bantering match between the two Parker twins. "These files have been encrypted." He was met with two glares.

"Then decrypt them, Broots," Miss Parker said evenly.

"I, uh… I can't."

"Then find someone who can," Lyle replied with annoyance.

"They can't be decrypted."

Miss Parker snapped her fingers at Broots. "The point, Broots?"

"There's no way to access these files. It's impossible."

"Like hell, it's impossible. If Jarod could encrypt them, there has to be a way to decrypt them. Find one."

"I can't. Even if I could find a way, it would take weeks, possibly even months, to crack the code," Broots tried to argue back.

"Then find a way to do it faster," Lyle said, taking a step toward the techie.

Miss Parker sidestepped into his path smoothly. "This information is my business, Lyle. I found it and I am damn well going to be the first one to see it," she said coldly. "I'm sure you have more important things to do anyway. The Triumvirate is probably starting to miss their lap dog," she sneered. 

"Watch your back, Parker," Lyle said coolly "This little game you've got going with the lab rat could be your death warrant."

"Is that a threat, Lyle?" Miss Parker asked with derision.

Lyle scoffed. "Hardly. I'd just hate to see another Parker thrown from the Centre hierarchy for misunderstood intentions. I doubt the Triumvirate will believe your dinner date with Jarod was professional."

"The Triumvirate can believe whatever the hell they want to. I'm doing exactly what I was ordered to do."

"Carousing with the lab rat isn't what you were ordered to do," Lyle replied tartly.

"Stay the hell out of it, Lyle."

"Like I said, Parker, watch you back," Lyle repeated before stalking out of the Sim-lab the same way he had entered.

"Um," Broots said, when Lyle's domineering presence had left.

Miss Parker harsh glare landed on him. "What?!"

"The, uh, files just decrypted themselves."

Miss Parker walked towards him. "And? What do they say?"

Broots moved away from the screen so that Parker could see.

Miss Parker read the screen closely. There were hundreds of pages covered with the same phrase, repeated over and over- "Close, but no cigar." Miss Parker pulled back angrily and turned to the techie.

"Find Jarod," she hissed. Broots didn't move "Now!" she added harshly.

****

Jazz lilted through the large room as Miss Parker walked in. A soft and mellow sound to accompany the men and woman who were seated at tables around the room eating their dinner.

Jarod's secretary had informed her that he would be attending a benefit that evening. Another black and white event. Without one word to Lyle or the Tower, Miss Parker had called for a limousine and headed out to Manhattan.

After surveying the room quietly from the door, Miss Parker spotted Jarod on the dance floor in the middle of the room. His arms were wrapped around a slender blonde woman in a white satin dress and they seemed to be engaging in a very soft conversation. Making her way over to them, Miss Parker tapped the other woman on the shoulder.

"Excuse me?" The blonde asked, as she and Jarod separated.

"I'm cutting in," Miss Parker said smoothly.

Jarod's eyes narrowed thoughtfully and a slight grin curled his lips. The blonde woman gave Miss Parker a defiant glare as she waited for Jarod's response.

"It's alright, Anna," Jarod said to the blonde, kissing her softly on the forehead. Miss Parker didn't read anything into the exchange, and barely acknowledged the cold look of contempt the girl gave her as she walked away.

Jarod watched Anna walk away for a moment and then turned back to Parker. Gesturing to her body, he said coolly, "It's a black and white ball, Parker."

Miss Parker looked at the red wrap she had tucked around her arms and grinned devilishly. "I wasn't invited anyway." 

The dress she had chosen to wear was bordering on public indiscretion - sheer black fabric that did little to conceal her nude form underneath. Every curve showed through the thin garment. She noted Jarod's appreciative smirk as she moved into his open arms.

"You left yourself wide open," she said calmly.

Jarod didn't reply to her remark, his eyes drawn to the low neckline of her dress. "You're all flushed," he commented casually.

Miss Parker continued without acknowledging his statement. "How many people know the base code of the Centre's mainframe? Five? Six?"

"Seven." Jarod smirked. "And, I'm sure you'll find each and every one of them."

"I'm not just going to pick up breadcrumbs you lay out, I can smell blood on my own," Miss Parker sneered.

Jarod chuckled as he spun her out and drew her back. "You're just inches away."

"I am inches away," she hissed in his ear, as she drew up behind him. "You'd do well to remember that."

Jarod laughed again.

"Smug bastard."

The slow jazz that had been playing ended and the band began a new song. Conga drums started a steady beat and then saxophones began playing. The tempo changed to a saucy tango, rhythmic and fluid.

Miss Parker pulled away from Jarod and began dancing in front of him, swaying to the pulse of the music.

Jarod watched her flow seamlessly, twisting and turning, her eyes watching him closely as she moved. Her attention remained focused on him as she moved around in front of him and then turned behind him, sliding against his body seductively.

Jarod grinned at her exquisite movements, sliding back against her body. The friction was electric.

When she slipped away, he followed, coming up behind her and moving his hands to her hips. They swayed together for a moment before she slipped away again and he was left with the red wrap in his hands.

Growling softly, as much with annoyance as arousal, Jarod tossed the garment over his shoulder and followed Parker again.

The rest of the couples moving around the ballroom seemed to pay no attention to Jarod and Miss Parker's erotic dance in the middle of the dance floor. They had their own isolated spot, unbroken, as the other couples engaged in less seductive tango movements around the floor.

With Miss Parker's wrap gone, more of her curves were visible through the thin fabric of her dress. Jarod watched appreciatively from behind as Miss Parker placed one hand in her hair and another on her abdomen and swayed her hips even more. Her motions weaved an enticing spell, drawing Jarod towards her again.

Miss Parker's hands moved to her hips as Jarod came up behind her and placed his hands over hers. Sliding against him again, they moved together to the pulsing beat of the conga drums. When the song reached a crescendo, Miss Parker threw Jarod's hands off and slid away again.

Jarod's eyes narrowed as he realized Miss Parker was leading him on a seductive chase around the dance floor. He didn't stop to think about why she was playing this sort of game with him, letting the music and her body entrance him. 

Instead of following her, Jarod stayed where he was and watched Miss Parker spin and flow in front of him. Eventually, she moved back towards him, her backside facing him. His eyes watched every part of her body move to the brazen tango as she wound her way back to him, never turning around to see the effect she was having on him.

When her body met his again, her hands slid up into her hair, brushing it against Jarod's face so that he could breathe in the alluring scent. Just when she was about to move away from him again, he caught her arm and spun her around.

Looking deep into her eyes, he asked suggestively, "Do you want to dance, or do you want to dance?"

Watching him closely, her eyes focused on his lips, wondering how much farther she should take her game with him. It had been fun leading him around the dance floor, letting him chase her for once, but her only intention had been to leave him flustered and unfulfilled. Now, she wasn't so sure.

Her hand moving around to the back of his neck, she drew his mouth towards hers and kissed him tentatively. Her eyes again focused on his lips as she drew back, wondering if she was kissing Jarod or Mr. Crown, and whether the dividing line even existed anymore. After a few short moments, she moved in again, reclaiming his lips in a longer kiss as his hands moved to the small of her back and held her close.

The space they had held in the middle of the dance floor closed in around them as the other couples danced closer, spinning and fluctuating around them.

When they reached Jarod's house, a short time later, the dance resumed.

Miss Parker moved into the house ahead of Jarod, while he locked the door and reset the alarm. Walking halfway into the room, she turned around to face him. When he was facing her again, she let the thin straps of her dress fall from her shoulders, and down her body. Stepping out of the pool of fabric, she waited for Jarod to come to her, standing before him with only high heels and black satin gloves adorning her body.

Jarod moved slowly, shedding his jacket as he walked toward her, drinking in the sight of her nude body, leaving her to wonder if she was being appreciated by Jarod or merely viewed by Mr. Crown. Her bare flesh met his starched white dress shirt and the dance continued - erotic, seductive, enticing, alluring.

The realm of coherent thought no longer existed as their bodies wound together in a beautiful collision. Hypnotic ecstasy. Hours passed in delicious bouts of ebb and flow. On the marbled tiles, the carpet, even beneath the painting that had so captivated Miss Parker earlier in the day. An adagio of scotch, vodka, sweat, and skin, too intimate to simply be fucking, but too primal to be making love.

Morning came and found them showered and in robes, sitting in Jarod's atrium. The room was beautiful; full of plants and richly colored furniture, covered in finely embroidered pillows. 

Paul, Jarod's housekeeper, brought their breakfast to them.

"Thank you, Paul," Jarod said, as his tray was placed in front of him.

"Thank you, Paul," Miss Parker echoed giving the housekeeper a small saccharine smile.

When the housekeeper left, Miss Parker looked pointedly at the tray she had in front of her.

Jarod noted her look then turned back to his newspaper. "Coffee, black, with two sugars."

Miss Parker's eyes narrowed. "Mr. Crown doesn't drink coffee," she said evenly.

Jarod's eyes remained focused on the newspaper. "No, he doesn't."

"And he only serves tea," Miss Parker continued.

Jarod nodded without turning to her.

"I don't suppose you just ran out for coffee?" She said sarcastically.

"No."

"Smug bastard," she hissed.

Jarod smirked and ate a piece of toast. "Coming here was your decision, Miss Parker," he said calmly.

"Did you sim me?" Miss Parker asked harshly.

Jarod looked at her and blinked. "No," he said smoothly.

Miss Parker narrowed her eyes at him. "I never knew I was such a forgone conclusion," she said with annoyance, then gave Jarod's crooked grin the same saccharine smile she had just given his housekeeper.

They ate in silence for a moment.

Sipping at her coffee, Miss Parker said casually, "You're living very well out here, Jarod. It would be a shame to have to leave it all."

The corner of Jarod's mouth curled. "You have to find the information before you can bring me in."

"This doesn't change anything, you know."

Jarod nodded.

"I won't back off, not even for a second."

Jarod grinned. "It would be hugely disappointing if you did.


	4. Martinique

Disclaimer: I can only hope that someday such enthralling and complex characters are my personal creations. Until then, the characters of the Pretender have been borrowed and made to live out various situations at my demand and whim. They are not mine.

Summary: Jarod steals valuable Centre information and puts himself into the public eye, the one place the Centre can see him and not touch him. The directive's the same, his freedom for hers. The field of play, however, is entirely different.

****

Centre Affairs

By Bec-Bec

Chapter 4

****

Martinique

"This is Sydney."

"Have you ever danced the tango, Sydney?" Jarod asked genially

"When I was younger, yes." Sydney paused thoughtfully. "Why do you ask?"

"Recent experiences have brought me to enjoy its art and movement more than I had in the past."

"The tango is based upon the chemistry between men and women. Your new found enjoyment would be based, intrinsically, on your dance partner."

Jarod chuckled softly. "I suppose so, but then, you already know who my dance partner was, Sydney."

"Miss Parker didn't go home last night, did she?" Sydney asked calmly.

"No," Jarod answered smoothly. "She didn't."

Sydney sighed. "What are you doing, Jarod?" Sydney asked with concern.

"Playing the part, Sydney."

"You're using her."

"It was Miss Parker's choice to come over."

"Was it? It seems to me that neither one of you are making any real choices. You're merely playing the roles that you've created."

There was silence on the line.

Sydney continued after a moment. "She's just as guilty of using you. You've both taken something that should have meaning and stripped it down to a chase tactic."

"Our sexual encounter is none of your business, Sydney," Jarod said evenly. "What happened between Parker and I remains between us."

Regardless of Jarod's comment, Sydney pressed on. "The same problem with intimacy that you are exhibiting is mirrored in Miss Parker. By entering a sexual relationship where you both have underlying motives and neither one of you trusts the other, you have both exacerbated the problem."

"The fact that we're screwing each other to reach our own goals is our business," Jarod said coolly. "Stay out of it."

Sydney sighed deeply. "I would have thought you incapable of using another human being to further your own agenda."

"I'm no angel, Sydney, and neither is she."

"How far do you intend to take this?" Sydney asked softly.

"As far as I have to go to get what I want."

"And what do you want, Jarod? 

There was no answer.

"This will not end well," Sydney warned.

"I'll deal with the consequences when the time comes." With that, Jarod hung up.

Sydney frowned pensively. Jarod was immersing himself into his pretend further and further. The fact that he would use Miss Parker as a tool to reach his own objective troubled the psychiatrist deeply. If the Pretender continued with his behavior, Sydney doubted the ramifications would be easily remedied. There was even a possibility that he would never re-emerge from the pretend at all.

Sydney had witnessed this type of sociopath behavior in Jarod previously, but never to this degree. He feared this latest exhibit would lead Jarod directly down the road he had worked to keep Raines from putting the Pretender on in the past.

Jarod was walking the thin line between genius and madness and, ultimately, it would be his own choice as to which side he fell on. Sydney only hoped the Pretender wasn't to fargone to undo his actions.

****

Lyle shuffled through surveillance photos slowly. Parker's scantily clad body pressed against Jarod's, swaying in front of him, grinding against him, kissing him. He studied them closely as he waited for Miss Parker to come in. 

Broots was typing away at his computer with a slight blush on his cheeks when Miss Parker entered the room. He glanced at her furtively with a stupid grin.

"What?" she asked coolly.

"Um, uh, nothing," he blushed darker, turning back to the computer screen.

Miss Parker smirked.

"Nice dress," Lyle replied sardonically.

Miss Parker turned her attention to her brother. "Glad you enjoyed the show," she hissed, stalking toward where he was sitting.

Broots saw the sparks igniting and decided to get out of the line of fire. "I think I'll, uh, go see what's going on down on SL-7." He stood up and walked towards the door. 

Miss Parker turned to face him with a wry grin as he passed by. With a crooked smile, he said, "It, um, looks like it was a great party."

The corners of her mouth turned up at his statement, which made the techie turn an even brighter shade of red as he walked hastily out of the room.

"Did you even think twice?" Lyle continued.

"No."

"You knew exactly what you were doing?"

"My job," she answered coldly.

Lyle scoffed. "Drop this job bullshit. Everyone knows you're taking advantage of this opportunity to get close to Jarod to fuck him witless."

"Hardly," Miss Parker sneered.

Lyle's mouth twitched. "What? The lab rat isn't good enough for a quick lay? Or, are you really that devoted to screwing him over?" Lyle smirked. "Pun intended."

"Since when do you give a rat's ass?" Miss Parker hissed.

"I don't. I'm just making sure you're not getting in over your head. We wouldn't want the Triumvirate thinking your objectivity was being clouded by your liaison with Jarod."

"Jarod likes me," Miss Parker said harshly. "He always has. He will continue to like me. I'll keep him right next to me."

"And you don't care what that makes you?" Lyle asked with amusement.

"Stay out of it, Lyle," Miss Parker bit back. "I know what I'm doing."

"Do you really?" Lyle asked evenly.

"This is just about recovering the Centre's assets," she answered curtly before leaving the room abruptly.

Lyle grinned softly as he slowly swiveled in Sydney's office chair. Miss Parker was in over her head and he knew it. She could argue her detachment from the situation as much as she wanted; he knew better. He may have only known his sister for the better part of three years but he knew instinctively that despite the act she put on, she would never sell her body to further the Centre's affairs – especially to Jarod. 

The two of them could put on as skillful an act as they liked but, Lyle was certain that neither one of them could be indifferent enough to exploit one another. Cunning, yes; indifferent, no. It was only a matter of time before the Triumvirate realized the same.

Lyle paused in his movement and stared pensively across the sim lab for a few minutes before following his sister's example and leaving the room abruptly.

****

"What?" Miss Parker answered her cell phone harshly, walking briskly down the corridor of SL-5.

"Centre affairs getting to you, Miss Parker?" Jarod asked wryly.

Miss Parker huffed with a quick annoyed smile and then pinched the bridge of her nose, where she could already feel the pressure building. "What do you want, Jarod?"

"The pleasure of your company tomorrow afternoon."

She chuckled dryly. "In the interest of saving me the trouble of finding out what you're up to, why don't you tell me why?"

"Do I really need a reason?" Jarod asked with amusement. "Tomorrow, at noon."

"Asshole," Miss Parker hissed as Jarod hung up on her. She continued to stalk quickly down the hallway.

****

Miss Parker leaned back in her seat, tilting her head up to watch the cloudless sky. Her sunglasses shielded her eyes from the bright afternoon sun.

"I could get used to this," she breathed.

The glider sailed easily through the air, riding on the wind drafts as Jarod expertly navigated over fields and mountaintops. The sleek, aerodynamic plane was remarkably light and it almost felt like they were floating. Exhilarating and yet calm. She should have expected that he would want to do something exhilarating, after all, Mr. Crown was a thrill seeker.

"Hold on," Jarod said from behind her.

"Hold on why?" Miss Parker sat up straighter in her seat.

Jarod suddenly turned the glider to the left and tilted the nose upward, riding an updraft. 

As the glider flipped upside down, Miss Parker laughed wildly at the strange sensation of instantaneous zero gravity. Gripping the sides of the plane tightly, she was glad Jarod had convinced her to take off her suit jacket so that she could move her arms easier.

When they were flying level again, Jarod leaned closer to Miss Parker. "I want you to try flying."

"No, Jarod."

Jarod held the control with one hand and used his other arm to move Parker's hand to the control as well. "Take the stick."

"Oh, I'm not taking the stick," she shook her head and tried to remove her hand from the control but Jarod held it there.

"Fly the glider, Parker," he breathed softly into her ear.

Nodding, she gave in and placed both of her hands on the stick. Jarod's hands remained on her arms, lingering just below her elbows, offering her support. She tried not to focus on the familiarity that his gesture exuded.

"That's good," he said softly in her ear. Removing a hand from her arm, he pointed off to the horizon. "Head for that hill over there."

Tilting the stick to the side, Miss Parker angled the plane to the right, smiling and laughing softly as the plane flew easily to the side.

"There you go. Feel the wind draft?" Jarod asked with a smile.

She nodded.

"Just like a hawk," he paused as they crested the hill. "I'm in your hands, Parker." Jarod gently removed his hands from her arms

Swallowing, Miss Parker ignored the implication of his statement and continued to guide the plane through the air.

When they had entered an area where there were no more air drafts to support the glider, Jarod took control back and landed them safely in a field.

Popping the plastic dome on top of the glider off with Jarod's help, Miss Parker unstrapped herself from the glider's seat and looked around. Resting her elbow on the side of the plane, she slid her sunglasses lower on her face.

Farmland. They had landed in a grassy field somewhere South of where they had departed in New York. A farm hand was in the distance, standing on his tractor to look at the trespassers. Nearby, livestock were nibbling on the grass. They were in the middle of nowhere.

"Cows," Miss Parker remarked dryly. "That's okay, we're only about four states from your car. Maybe we can get a ride into town on the tractor," she offered drolly.

Jarod stared blankly at her and pulled out his cell phone to call for his personal jet and a taxi. After he had made arrangements for the return of his glider, he flipped the phone shut again and helped Parker out of her seat. The taxi picked them up on the closest country road and they were en route to New York within the hour.

*

Lounging comfortably in his seat, after they boarded the jet, Jarod watched Miss Parker as she stared out of the window. She seemed to have enjoyed the afternoon but had fallen silent by the time they had reached the airstrip.

After a trip to the cockpit to check their progress, Jarod stopped at the bar on the side of the jet and fixed himself a drink. Returning to his seat, he handed Miss Parker a glass of vodka. 

She turned from the window and accepted the glass. "That isn't Manhattan," she commented, gesturing to the window before taking a sip from the glass.

Jarod glanced out of the window. "Hmm," he said softly.

"There are things I need to take care of at the Centre, Jarod. I have appointments."

"Do you want to keep them?" he asked evenly.

Miss Parker smirked but didn't answer. 

Several hours later they touched down on the small French island of Martinique. 

*

Standing out on the small airstrip while she waited for Jarod, Miss Parker enjoyed the feel of the sun on her bare shoulders. Her suit jacket was folded up and sitting in the jeep Jarod had waiting to take them to his house on the edge of the island.

Looking around the airfield, her eyes landed on the luggage the flight crew was unloading from the airplane. Miss Parker slid her sunglasses lower as she watched them pull out two silver cases—DSAs and Jarod's laptop. Fleetingly, she thought of running up and grabbing the two cases to inspect their contents, but she knew better than to expect that Jarod would have been foolish enough to bring those two items on a trip with her.

Just as the silver cases were put into a second jeep, Jarod walked around Miss Parker from behind and handed her a styrofoam cup with a straw.

"Lemonade," Miss Parker commented after sipping at the cool beverage.

Jarod nodded as he walked around to the driver's side of the jeep. "Sweet and sour. An intriguing combination."

Miss Parker narrowed her eyes and slid her sunglasses back up. "Indeed."

Jarod hopped into the jeep and turned on the ignition. "The door is welded," he stated, as he noticed Miss Parker trying to open the passenger side door. "Throw your leg over."

"Throw my leg over?" Miss Parker arched her eyebrow.

Jarod grinned and held the cup Miss Parker handed him as she lifted herself into the jeep.

Once Miss Parker was settled in her seat, Jarod started the ignition and drove off of the airstrip. The jeep holding his luggage followed close behind, and Miss Parker watched the protruding corner of one of Jarod's silver cases as the other car weaved through the cultured city streets behind them. 

Out of the corner of his eye, Jarod noticed Miss Parker's intense interest in the vehicle behind them and smiled wryly. "Would you like to inspect them?" he questioned, knowing exactly which items in the other jeep had caught her attention.

"No," Miss Parker answered quickly, turning to face forward again.

"Are you sure?" Jarod asked with tempered amusement.

"Yes."

Jarod nodded his head, accepting her answer.

Eventually, the beautiful surrounding landscape drew Miss Parker's thoughts away from the vehicle behind them. The Caribbean sea breeze as they drove along the old streets of the island felt wonderful against her face and she had an urge to stand up on her seat and let the wind whip through her hair. As she gave into that urge, Jarod grinned softly, masking his delight at her enjoyment.

The soft melodies of local music drifted through the air and some of the local children waved to Miss Parker as Jarod drove slowly through the city. When she waved back, they all smiled at the foreigners with excitement, eagerly watching the uncommon disruption of a small line of cars driving through their dusty hometown.

After Jarod had driven through the city limits, they approached the shadier regions of the island where his house was situated and Miss Parker sat back in her seat with a soft laugh.

Jarod narrowed his eyes. "What?"

"Friendly locals."

Jarod nodded. "They aren't used to this sort of interruption."

"You come here often," Miss Parker commented coolly. 

"I needed a place to unwind."

"Another one of Mr. Crown's token vacation homes?"

"Not quite," Jarod replied evenly.

"Does the Centre know about it?"

"Not yet." Jarod looked at her pointedly.

Miss Parker gave a quick, forced smile.

As they came to the end of their leisurely, circular climb to the top of a hill, Jarod's small house came into view. 

The building was on the crest of the hill, overlooking the ocean. Exotic trees cast wavering shade over the small area as they swayed in the breeze and bougainvillea draped across the trees' branches, swelling right onto the roof of the house.

When Jarod had parked the car and they had both climbed out, Miss Parker wandered toward the inviting porch that circled the house, slowly noting different aspects of the beautiful hillside.

"This must go over," Miss Parker commented, as they walked up to the house.

"With whom?"

"With whomever you bring here."

Jarod walked past her evenly. "I've never brought anyone here."

Miss Parker paused in her tracks. Her hair blew softly across her forehead and she brushed it aside, tracking Jarod's retreating form with her eyes.

She could not pretend that she hadn't understood the implications of his statement. Mr. Crown was a playboy, and not a discreet one. His ownership of a house in the Caribbean was not a surprise, but his lack of female companionship while staying in that house was. He had not chosen to share his villa with any of his female conquests, except Miss Parker.

After a few moments, she wandered leisurely toward the area of the house where Jarod had disappeared. When she came upon him, he was standing next to a closet with a sly grin on his face.

"Voila."

Miss Parker pulled her sunglasses off slowly and gestured at the closet with them. "I bet they're all my size too," she stated with a half grin.

"Could be." Jarod smirked. "They may be a little off here and there, but I think they'll make do. I'll go make dinner." Jarod indicated the direction he was going in and then walked out of the room, his open shirt flapping lightly in the breeze.

*

After Miss Parker had changed into more comfortable clothing, she followed Jarod's earlier path to the kitchen.

Something smelled wonderful. Perhaps it was seafood. Her interest wasn't in the food, however.

"Come on," she called out, swatting Jarod's butt playfully as she sauntered by.

As she came out onto the porch, Jarod's voice called back to her from the kitchen. "You want some wine?" 

"Yes."

The view from Jarod's porch was exquisite. The sun was just beginning to dip below the horizon and soft clouds diluted the color of the sky. Along with the deep, clear blue of the oceanside and the colorful plant life dotting the mountainside, the image was breathtaking.

The sarong Miss Parker had changed into blew softly around her knees. "It's beautiful," she commented when she heard Jarod behind her. Turning, her eyes caught the glint of a silver case propped up against the wall of the house.

Leaning down so that his face was in her line of sight, Jarod questioned smoothly. "Do you want to see it?"

"No." Miss Parker brought her eyes back up as Jarod straightened.

"Are you sure?" he asked with a raised eyebrow.

"I'm sure." Miss Parker smiled brazenly. "Come here." She threw the towel she had around his neck and pulled him to her. 

*

After Jarod had started a small bonfire to light the porch and dilute the ever-cooling breeze, they sat down to dinner.

Miss Parker and Jarod ate the seafood he had prepared in companionable silence for a few moments.

"Do you want to see it?" Jarod asked, breaking the silence smoothly.

Miss Parker glanced at the silver case then continued to pick at her lobster tail. "No."

"Are you sure?"

"Do you think I'd believe you'd leave valuable Centre information lying around a Caribbean hut?" She questioned coolly.

"What if I did?"

"And that you'd tell me?" She quirked an eyebrow, smirking.

"What if I trust you?" he asked calmly.

"You know you can't."

"You don't believe it's possible that you could ever trust me, do you?" Jarod questioned evenly.

"Do you know how likely I think that is?"

They stared pensively at each other for a few moments. Finally, Miss Parker wiped her hands off, stood up and walked over to the silver case. Picking it up, she carried it over to the bonfire and dropped it in.

Jarod watched her movements silently. When she had returned to her seat and settled in, he narrowed his eyes lightly at the bonfire. "Should I open another bottle of wine?"

"Mmm," Miss Parker commented distantly. "Yes." Here eyes remained trained on the bonfire.

"I think so," Jarod commented. "This bottle wasn't very good."

Miss Parker's watched the case scorch slowly. "No… not really."

"1985, not very good."

"Mmm."

A moment of silence passed.

"What was in it?" Miss Parker asked softly

"A laptop, CDs, a few ZIP discs."

"Important?"

"We'll never know, will we?"

Miss Parker shook her head, then drank down a glass of the wine quickly.

"Easy, easy." Jarod calmed her as she went for the bottle to refill her glass. "I think I'll go get that other bottle of wine." He stood and moved toward the kitchen.

"Yeah." Miss Parker replied, then suddenly burst into laughter. "Oh. You're not boring, I'll give you that!"

*

When Miss Parker woke the next morning, she was alone in bed. Sliding to the edge, she reached for her sarong on the floor and stood. As she fastened it around her waste, she walked slowly to the balcony and peered out, trying to locate the source of the distant voices she heard.

Jarod was deep in conversation with several gentlemen in suits. They had the air of bankers – cool, neat, financially interested men.

Miss Parker slipped back into the bedroom softly.

*

"You complimented me," Miss Parker said calmly, her eyes fixed on the ocean water.

She was tanning in the sun on the beach later that morning when Jarod approached from behind.

"How?"

"They were bankers."

"Who?"

"Who?!" she huffed in annoyance. "The suits." There was a brief moment of silence. "You're transferring assets, preparing to disappear," she said evenly.

Jarod stared at her, then turned his eyes to the secluded stretch of land, focusing on the edge of the surf, the line where water met sand. "Suppose I did disappear," he began contemplatively. "What would you have left?" he continued, in a detached, casual tone. "Not the information. Not the truth. Not me."

"Yes." She nodded.

Jarod turned back to her. "Suppose I paid you."

Miss Parker laughed at the absurdness of his offer. "To let you go?" she stated.

Jarod nodded.

"I don't need money, Jarod."

"Then suppose I offered you a piece of your past," he tried again.

Miss Parker straightened in her seat. "Like what?" she asked with interest.

"The truth," Jarod replied.

"What makes you so certain that you know that truth?" her eyebrow arched.

"The information I took wasn't just about me, Parker." He turned toward the ocean again.

Miss Parker swallowed. "What did you find?" she asked softly.

"I can't give that information to you, Parker."

"And I can't take it as a trade," she said calmly.

"You could." He turned and eyed her with a steady face.

"It would be my death sentence."

"They wouldn't have to know."

Miss Parker turned her eyes away from him to watch the sunset. "Do you really think there's happily ever after for people like us?" she asked quietly.

He didn't answer, concentrating on the endless ebb and flow of the ocean. There was nothing but the gentle sound of waves around them. The tide was coming in.

*

Some time later, when the sun had dipped beneath the horizon, Miss Parker lay nude along Jarod's back, the palms of her hands pressed against his shoulder blades and her cheek resting lightly on the side of his head. The mosquito netting that cascaded from the ceiling, surrounding their bed rustled lightly in the breeze.

"So, just how many times have you broken into the Centre's mainframe?" she asked quietly, stroking the soft skin behind his left ear.

"A few." He let out a long, slow breath as her fingers slid through his hair.

"Several mouse clicks and there's every piece of information you ever wanted."

Jarod nodded softly.

"How come you didn't take it sooner?"

"I didn't know where to look, before" he replied evenly. 

"And now that you do, you've finally made a bargain for your freedom. The only problem is, you can't run anymore," Miss Parker smirked lightly.

"That doesn't mean I can't chase."

"The Centre doesn't like being toyed with," she stated, "and neither do I."

"It's just a game, Parker," Jarod whispered solemnly. "It's just a game."

Something about Jarod's tone caused Miss Parker to wonder for the first time if it was in fact he and not she that was determining the exact nature and character of their relationship.

Author's Note: Well, the next chapter's finally done. I figured that I owed this to a few very special people who have been bugging me to update. I love you all madly.

Happy holidays and a wonderful new year to all! 


	5. Mainframe

Disclaimer: I can only hope that someday such enthralling and complex characters are my personal creations. Until then, the characters of the Pretender have been borrowed and made to live out various situations at my demand and whim. They are not mine.

Summary: Jarod steals valuable Centre information and puts himself into the public eye, the one place the Centre can see him and not touch him. The directive's the same, his freedom for hers. The field of play, however, is entirely different.

****

Centre Affairs

By Bec-Bec

Chapter 5

****

Mainframe

"This is Sydney."

"You should consider taking a vacation, Syd." Jarod's voice indicated that he was grinning widely. "I've found them to be incredibly relaxing."

Sydney leaned back in his chair. "That's not surprising, considering the routine of your current pretend. Many people find that vacations allow them to escape the pressures and banalities of their every-day lives."

"I would hardly call my life banal," Jarod remarked. "But it was nice to shed the business front of Mr. Crown for a few days.

Sydney sighed heavily. "Dropping only one aspect of your pretend will have repercussions."

"Doesn't everything, Sydney?" Jarod replied smoothly.

"How many days has it been, Jarod? When was the last time you emerged from your pretend?"

Silence filled the line.

"Does it really matter?" Jarod asked blandly. "I'm getting the job done, just like you trained me to."

Sydney sat forward, his voice emphatic. "I never allowed you to trap yourself in a pretend for weeks at a time. The effects on your mind would have been detrimental."

"No, Sydney. You just kept my brilliant mind from experiencing sensory overload so I could continue working on your beloved simulations," Jarod countered cruelly.

"The simulations were never more important than your mental health, Jarod. They were for your own safety. If Raines had his way, you would have ended up just like Alex. That path is the one you are treading at this very moment. You are becoming consumed by sociopathic behavior, the effects of which cannot be reversed."

Jarod chuckled coldly. "Genius or madness. It's always been a thin line. But I'm not the only one walking it."

"Miss Parker."

"What path is she treading? How dangerous are the repercussions of her actions, Sydney?" Jarod's voice menaced. "She's been pretending for years."

"Miss Parker's pretend is a front, a façade. She was never trained to absorb a personality to the core of her being the way that you were."

"You shouldn't be so sure, Sydney." Jarod's voice mellowed, tinged with something Sydney couldn't identify immediately.

There was silence again.

After a few moments, Jarod's voice came across the phone line again. "Thank you, Sydney." Jarod disconnected the call.

Sydney grinned softly. Jarod's mind was as sharp as ever.

Sydney's provocations had held a specific intent, one that Jarod could not initially detect. In spurring Jarod's anger, Sydney had broken through the behaviors of Mr. Crown into a fury that was purely Jarod's. He had reminded the Pretender of his own past, his pains and frustrations, but most importantly, what he was fighting against and what he was fighting for.

Yet, Sydney was troubled by Jarod's statement regarding Miss Parker. Perhaps she had become absorbed by her own "pretend."

"Défaite," Sydney whispered into his silent study. Defeat. Jarod's voice had been tinged with defeat – something the Pretender had rarely expressed to him.

Sydney reclined in his chair again, puzzled by the Pretender's closing statements about Miss Parker.

"Nice tan," Lyle commented with a leer, strolling into Miss Parker's office without an invitation.

"Thanks," she replied calmly from behind her desk "I went to the beach for a couple of days."

"On the job." He stated with sarcasm, wandering toward her desk.

Miss Parker continued making her tea, squeezing the lemon as Lyle advanced.

"That's right."

"And did you, uh, pick anything up?" Lyle asked, placing himself on the edge of Miss Parker's desk.

"Jarod makes wonderful lobster." Miss Parker remarked with disinterest, ignoring Lyle's presence next to her. She sipped at her tea.

Lyle nodded his head without knowledge for agreement. "I'm sure it was much better than the grasshoppers he whipped up for us." He paused for a moment. "Since when do you drink tea?"

No answer.

"So that's it, huh? After two days and two nights?"

"Yes," she answered blandly.

"So, it was basically an excuse to fuck each other for the weekend."

Miss Parker didn't bother to reply.

"Okay." Lyle nodded again.

The room was silent for a moment.

"Would you like to know where he was the night before you left? Or after he left you last night?" Lyle asked with a devilish smile.

"Not really."

"Okay." Lyle shrugged and slid off of Miss Parker's desk. "Suit yourself." He began to walk away briskly.

"Lyle," Parker called out. Her eyes were downcast as she gestured for him to return to her desk.

Smirking wickedly, he ambled back to her desk and handed her the file he'd been holding.

Miss Parker opened it and looked at the photo on top of the stack inside. Jarod's forehead was resting conspiratorially against that of the blonde woman he'd been dancing with the other night. The next photo had them wandering down the street. Jarod's arm was wrapped securely around the woman's waist.

Miss Parker flipped through two more photos quickly before shutting the folder and handing it back to Lyle in a haphazard mess.

"She's striking," Miss Parker said evenly.

Lyle grinned evilly. "He seems to think so. Three dates in six days."

"Where does he find the time," she stated more than questioned.

Lyle attempted to cover his malicious smile as Miss Parker stood and moved toward her office door.

"Going down to SL-5?" Lyle asked casually, turning toward her. She kept walking without a response. "You okay, sis?" Lyle's voice feigned interest.

"I have work to do," Parker replied briskly, her back turned to Lyle.

Lyle nodded again and exited the room shortly after Miss Parker. His suspicions were partially confirmed. The Triumvirate wouldn't be pleased with his findings.

Lyle ambled into the tech lab on SL-5, where Broots seemed to be rapidly entering computer commands and whispering to Miss Parker.

"Ahem," Lyle said.

"You're supposed to actually clear your throat when you do that, Buttercup," Parker replied acidly without looking up.

Broots began laughing, but stopped when Lyle glared at him. "It was just, um, the Powerpuff Girls. You know how they always have words to describe actions instead of using the actual sounds. Like the old Wile E. Coyote and Road Runner cartoons." Lyle and Miss Parker both focused annoyed looks at him. "Debbie, uh, watches the cartoon channel… sometimes." Broots turned back to his computer.

"Sure she does, Broots," Miss Parker patted his shoulder patronizingly, as she turned to her brother.

Lyle smirked. "You're one to talk."

Miss Parker ignored his comment. "What the hell do you want now, Lyle?"

"I've come with a peace bargain."

"Your dead body?" Parker asked with a snide grin.

"With love." Lyle's voice dripped with sarcasm. "The Triumvirate's trust in your motives is rapidly declining. I'm here to make a deal before the Africans decide to remove you. Permanently."

"Go on," Miss Parker replied coolly.

"You keep me in the loop on all of your _findings_," Lyle emphasized "findings" sardonically, "and I'll report to the Triumvirate that I have full faith that screwing Boy Wonder isn't tampering with your incentive."

"And why would they believe you?" Miss Parker stalked toward him slowly

"I have a reputation with them. They know they can trust me."

"Bullshit, the Triumvirate doesn't trust anyone." Miss Parker's face was less than an inch away from Lyle's. "They'd rather kill you _and_ me than risk it, and you damn well know it."

Lyle grinned wickedly. "That may very well be the case. But, if I were you, I'd take the gamble. Either way, you're dead, eventually. I'm just buying you a few more days."

"Your concern is overwhelming, but I think I'll pass," Parker replied bitterly.

"It's your ass, Parker, not mine." He turned on his heal and strolled out of the room confidently.

"He's up to something," Parker's eyes narrowed as she watched the door slide shut behind him.

"Heh, isn't he always?" Broots said from his desk.

"What's this?" Lyle asked as Miss Parker slapped a manila folder down on his desk.

"Remnants of the files Jarod supposedly took."

"Remnants? Supposedly?" Lyle asked with interest.

Parker poised herself on the edge of Lyle's desk. "The Centre's computer system keeps remnants of the files that are transferred over its server, in case something happens to the originals. Jarod left the remnants of the files he removed behind."

"And?" Lyle's eyebrow arched. "What does it prove?"

"The remnants were altered. Instead of reading as partial pieces of their original files, they've become encrypted messages regarding other files. Jarod disguised the remnants as other files."

"So, if he can disguise the remnants, he must be able to disguise the actual files."

Miss Parker slid off of Lyle's desk and walked towards the door. "We'll need to find the creator of the Centre's computer system."

Lyle leaned over to look after Parker. "How long have you known about this?"

"Five days," Parker replied.

"Why didn't you share this information before?"

"I shared it now." She disappeared through Lyle's office doors.

Lyle smiled diabolically.

"It's beautiful." Parker lightly fingered the glittering Bvulgari necklace laid out before her in an intricate, felt-covered box.

Jarod grinned. "You're not going to say that I couldn't possibly…" he trailed off.

The sparkling metal and precious stones twinkled in the light of the restaurant's candlelit tables. They had just finished with their cappuccinos following a four-course meal.

"I would never say anything that boring," Parker ran her finger along the felt edge of the box, transfixed.

Jarod's smile twitched as he kept it from widening.

In the car, Jarod filled the silence with talks of his society dinners and benefits, and the strange people that accompanied them. Miss Parker gave short replies, but Jarod could tell she was distracted by something. He pressed on, regardless.

"Kitty Sinclair is holding a benefit at her gallery tomorrow. She's a nice lady, but it will be like having dinner at a morgue. Which I've done, of course, but that was far more appealing." He paused and turned to Parker. "You know, it occurred to me that I might be able to bear it if you came with me."

Miss Parker turned her head slightly, her jacket enticingly covering the lower part of her face."Tomorrow? That's so soon," she remarked.

"I sense irritation…" Jarod trailed off, his face falling almost imperceptibly.

"No." Parker shook her head softly. "No," she reaffirmed.

Jarod leaned in a little. "Do you find my company monotonous, Miss Parker?"

"No." She chuckled. "Not hardly."

"Because I'd hate to think that you could," Jarod continued.

"What?" Miss Parker asked coolly. "Be bored by you? Require a little variety?"

"You're referring to Anna." Jarod chuckled, turning away from her as he finally realized what was bothering her. He sobered a little. "They photographed me with Anna."

"That's your prerogative," Parker replied evenly, as she stared out the side window. "We're hardly exclusive."

"I thought they were," Jarod pressed on. "And I let it happen." He turned toward her again. "Do you want to know why?"

"No."

"I'll tell you why." Jarod was heedless of nearly every attempt Parker made to avoid the subject.

"I don't want to know why."

"Well, I want to tell you why."

Parker turned toward him. "I don't want to know why." She addressed Jarod's driver. "Jimmy, I'd like to get out."

"Jimmy, keep driving," Jarod countered.

"Jimmy, could you stop," Parker re-issued forcefully.

Jimmy obediently pulled the car over to the side of the road. He never was one to counteract a lady's wishes.

"Just let me tell you why."

"No." Parker immediately opened the door wide and exited the car into the snowy bank at the car's side.

Jarod muttered curses as he watched her briskly walk up the hill. He climbed out of the car and quickly dashed after her.

"Now ask me why," he pressed as he got within hearing range of Miss Parker.

"I don't want to know," she replied harshly, stopping near a tree.

"You're upset about it," Jarod urged.

Parker snorted derisively. "I'm upset because that's what you wanted, Jarod."

"I needed you to be upset," Jarod said forcefully.

"He's sadistic, who knew." Irony filled her voice. "It doesn't come as a surprise after all the shit you've put me through."

"Did it ever occur to you that I needed to know?" Jarod asked firmly.

"Know what?" she asked after a moment.

"Know whether all you wanted was the Centre's information." Jarod's voice became less forceful, taking on an edge of sadness, but remaining serious.

Miss Parker turned toward him, her breath making steam in the cold air.

"How else could I know?" Jarod asked.

"What about you?" Miss Parker asked. "How do I know about you?"

"I can leave here tomorrow. So can you." Jarod's demeanor was serious, welcoming, but not requesting. It would be her choice; her terms.

"We would be fugitives."

"Fugitives with means. That makes all the difference in the world."

"They would never stop looking for us, Jarod." Miss Parker paused. "I don't know." She reaffirmed. "I don't know."

Jarod nodded.

"This is Sydney."

"Have you ever heard of Peter Pan Syndrome, Sydney?" Jarod asked inquisitively.

"Jarod." The psychiatrist hadn't been expecting such a late night call from the Pretender. He turned his bedside lamp on and straightened up.

Jarod repeated his question. "Have you ever heard of Peter Pan Syndrome?"

"By more scientific terms, yes. It is an inability to grow up, or a desire not to. Some people liken it to Holden Caulfield as well. Why do you ask?"

"What happens if Peter Pan finally decides to grow up?"

Sydney's brow furrowed. "The story ends," he replied simply.

"But what if there's no place for him to land?"

Sydney was puzzled by Jarod's question. "I don't know. I suppose he makes himself a place to land." There was a pause. "Makes a new life."

"I suppose so," Jarod replied.

"Was that the answer you were looking for, Jarod?"

"Not really… but I don't think I asked the right question to receive the answer I wanted," Jarod sighed. "She's just like me, Sydney. We don't know what we've lost until it's gone."

The line disconnected, leaving Sydney filled with questions and suppositions yet again.

"Hey, let's go," Lyle popped his head into Parker's office.

"Where?" she asked evenly, from behind her desk.

Lyle walked into the room, and placed his hand behind Parker's couch, removing a small metal object. He threw it to the ground and smashed it with the heal of his shoe. "To visit the mainframe creators."

Parker watched him as he smoothly moved toward the door. When he got there he turned.

"We haven't got all day, Parker. Come on."

Blinking a few times, she got out of her chair and followed Lyle out of her office.

"I've never met anyone named Jarod," the restaurant owner stated suspiciously.

Lyle and Miss Parker were sitting at the counter in a dirty little diner.

Grimacing as he swallowed a cup of coffee, Lyle continued questioning the man. "What about a Mr. Crown?"

The man's eyes twitched. "Why do you ask?"

Miss Parker rolled her eyes. "Frank, have you ever been to Delaware?" she asked with an accusing smile.

"Never been to Delaware, no," the man drawled. His eyes said otherwise. "Excuse me a second."

Miss Parker tilted her head, gesturing to Lyle as Frank walked quickly toward the kitchen. Lyle came up behind Frank, poking a gun into the man's back as she intercepted him in front.

"All we want are a few answers Friedrich, then we'll leave," Miss Parker said coldly.

Friedrich nodded.

"Do you work for them?" Freidrich asked, his German accent suddenly pronounced in his words.

"What do you think?" Lyle asked with annoyance.

Miss Parker circled Friedrich tauntingly.

"How did you find me?"

"Oh, you know the Centre," Lyle palmed his gun. "We're everywhere." He gestured widely.

Miss Parker's switchblade clicked open. Friedrich twitched. Smiling at the man's fear, Miss Parker stopped in front of him. "Like I said, Friedrich, just answer a few questions and we'll leave you alone."

"What do you want to know?"

"The Centre's mainframe," she began. "Did you create the computer code for it?"

Friedrich nodded. "I helped to create it, but I was mostly concerned with the hardware. The wires and mechanisms. Another German wrote the actual code. Heinrich…"

"Knutzhorn," Lyle finished.

Miss Parker looked at Lyle.

"Broots pulled up two names, Parker."

"0000000011100001100011001010001000," Heinrich listed stoically.

Lyle leaned in to Miss Parker. "His brain is as fried as yesterday's eggs, Parker," he whispered as Heinrich continued listing binary code in the background. Miss Parker ignored him and walked over to Heinrich.

Broots had tracked the man down to a mental hospital in Nebraska. Now, Heinrich sat cross-legged in front of them, his eyes unfocused and his arms strapped to his body in a straight jacket.

"0000100000111111111110001001001," Heinrich continued.

"He hasn't spoken anything but binary code since he got here," an orderly spoke from the door.

Miss Parker kneeled in front of the man, looking carefully in his eyes. "Has anyone tried to interpret what he's saying?"

"No one knows." The orderly replied. "The last person who tried to interpret the code came up with mish mosh."

Miss Parker listened intently to Heinrich.

"I'll wait across the hall." The orderly left the room

Lyle walked toward Miss Parker. "Let's go, the man's a regular Humpty Dumpty."

"The Centre has its own code. One zero is all it would take to differentiate between two codes. He's probably babbling in the Centre's specific mainframe code."

Lyle wasn't convinced. "And what? You speak binary code?"

"Who would bother to learn binary code?" Miss Parker focused her attention on the man in front of her. "Sind Sie Heinrich Knutzhorn?"

Heinrich turned toward her and nodded.

"Sprechen Sie Englisch?"  
"Yes," was the man's slow reply.

Lyle's eyes widened. "So Humpty isn't as cracked as we thought."

Miss Parker ignored him. "Did you write the Centre's mainframe code, Mr. Knutzhorn?"

"Yes."

"Has a man named Jarod or Mr. Crown been by to visit you?"

"No."

"Have you hacked the mainframe recently?" Lyle asked firmly

Heinrich began laughing. "So so so you think if I want a computer I just ask for one and and the orderlies just think it's therapy while I I madly type binary code in my cell without a phone line?"

Miss Parker chuckled and raised her eyebrows mockingly at Lyle.

Heinrich got a distant look in his eyes.

"What?" Lyle asked.

Heinrich shook his head and wagged his finger. "Nichts."

"What?" Lyle pressed.

Lyle was met only with binary code and a blank look on Heinrich's face. He huffed with exasperation.

Miss Parker just smiled.

"What?"

"Nothing," Miss Parker answered.

"What?" Lyle repeated as the car drove along.

Miss Parker shrugged. "I was just wondering what he wouldn't say before."

"He's a nut case. He was probably thinking about a tuna fish sandwich."

Miss Parker waved her hand dismissively.

"What?"

"Nothing."

"Give," Lyle said firmly

"There's nothing, Lyle," she answered coldly.

Lyle pulled the car over to the side of the road. "You know what, life is full of shitty conflicts, Parker. If it has something to do with Jarod, give."

"I was just wondering if there was some other connection between them."

"Between Jarod and that nut?"

"Yeah."

"You're spooky, Parker. Really spooky," Lyle leaned back in an office chair with a strange grin. "Suppose you got it from our mother."

Miss Parker's walk slowed.

Broots turned from his computer and handed her a stack of papers. "Jarod's cell phone records have the number of the psychiatric hospital listed 5 times in the last two months."

"How does that work? Jarod couldn't speak directly with Knutzhorn."

"We're, uh, we're still looking in to it."

Lyle thumbed through his own copy of the report. "He called once October 20th, again on the 24th and a third time November 5th. He also received two calls on October 30th and November 2nd."

"Did you notice the fourth call on October 26th?" Miss Parker walked further into the room. "That's the day before Jarod siphoned the information out of the mainframe."

"So?" Lyle asked with a bored expression. "There are a lot of calls on that day."

"Look at the incoming caller name."

"Tyrol Knutzhorn," Broots read carefully.

Lyle leaned forward. "We spoke to Heinrich Knutzhorn."

Miss Parker laughed and tapped the papers lightly against her chin. "Do you know what it was? The look he had when he wouldn't speak? It was nostalgia. Familial nostalgia. I bet you Jarod's been speaking with his son."

Broots eyes widened. "The son of a computer mastermind who knows how to create code just like his father."

"The Centre just doesn't know about him yet." Miss Parker handed the stack of papers back to Broots.

Lyle stood and moved toward the door. "And we should keep it that way."

Miss Parker moved toward the seat Lyle had just vacated. "Well, I assume if Broots looks, he'll find that Tyrol Knutzhorn lives in New York. Somewhere near Jarod's house."

Lyle grinned suavely. "You know Parker. I think I actually owe you an apology. I didn't think you'd be able to see this through, what with your emotional ties."

"Well, it wouldn't be the first time you underestimated me, Lyle" She replied coldly.

"But I shouldn't have." A cruel look passed over Lyle's face. "Because I bet you'd shoot our own father before you'd let Jarod play you." Lyle's face twitched with delight as he exited the room.

Miss Parker stared at the door as Lyle left. Her face was completely ashen.

Author's Note: Five months later… I know it's been a long time, I apologize. Life got the better of me. This is the product of a two-day writing spree. I'm kind of proud that I wrote it all out so quickly. And, you'll be pleased to know that only one chapter remains to be written :) hugs to all


	6. The Autumn Leaves Were Turning

Disclaimer: I can only hope that someday such enthralling and complex characters are my personal creations. Until then, the characters of the Pretender have been borrowed and made to live out various situations at my demand and whim. They are not mine.

Summary: Jarod steals valuable Centre information and puts himself into the public eye, the one place the Centre can see him and not touch him. The directive's the same, his freedom for hers. The field of play, however, is entirely different.

Author's Note: This is the second chapter I've titled after one of the songs appearing on the Thomas Crown Affair soundtrack. The original (Oscar-winning) song – "The Windmills of Your Mind"— was performed by Dusty Springfield for the 1968 soundtrack to the original Thomas Crown Affair. The 1999 soundtrack for the film's remake (which I highly suggest) contains a version by Sting.

The sweeper Dan Malcolm is a borrowed creation of Rivie (RivenRebelPoet/RRP.) Special thanks to her for allowing me to use her character for a few lines of dialogue.

****

Centre Affairs

By Bec-Bec

Chapter 6

****

The Autumn Leaves Were Turning

"Harold," Miss Parker's hushed but urgent voice spoke into her cell phone. "Listen carefully and please don't interrupt." She walked briskly through a silent sub-level five hallway, checking to make sure no one was listening as she went. "If I had to be gone, and I mean seriously gone," she paused gravely, "in about eight hours, what could I take with me?"

"Are you alright, Parker?" the English man questioned with concern. Parker had once warned him that her line of work was dangerous, but he knew very little about it.

"Harold," she answered brusquely. "How much could I take with me?" she repeated.

"Well, you'll be taking an enormous loss if you liquidate like this." For eleven years, Harold had faithfully invested Parker's assets in various venues, serving as her accountant and financial broker.

Miss Parker reached a perpendicular hallway and looked carefully in both directions before turning left, choosing to go deeper into the heart of the sublevel. "I understand that and it can't be helped," she replied earnestly. "But what could I leave with?"

"That will be quite a task, but if you call back in an hour I'll have a number for you of some kind."

"Okay."

"Are you sure-"

Miss Parker abruptly cut the English man off as she flipped her cell phone shut and strode quickly toward the elevator bank at the end of the hallway. She had things to take care of.

(())

Miss Parker pulled various desk drawers open, shuffling expeditiously through their contents and pulling certain items out. A stack of files, letters, notebooks and pads of paper was rapidly growing on her desktop.

She wasn't sure when she had lost the control variable of the chase, but she was going to make damn sure she got it back. Hell if she'd allow Lyle and the Triumvirate to keep playing their games. She was no one's pawn, not even Jarod's.

Lyle's unwanted presence was immediately evident as his polished shoes squeaked lightly on her office's hardwood floor. "Leaving?" he asked curiously, perching himself on the edge of Parker's desk so that he could leaf through the stack of papers there.

Miss Parker firmly pressed her hands down on the pile as she rose from her office chair, forcing Lyle to remove his probing fingers. "What makes you think you're that lucky? Venom coiled behind her words.

Lyle shrugged with disinterest, sliding off of Miss Parker's desk. "Broots searched the visitor records for the psychiatric hospital. There were no Tyrol Knutzhorns."

"Doesn't surprise me," Miss Parker replied blandly. "Jarod covers his tracks."

"There was a Knudsen though," Lyle continued. "About three times last month." He paused. "Do you think that's just a coincidence?"

Miss Parker snorted derisively. "There are no coincidences in one of Jarod's games. Have Broots look into it."

"He already is."

"Then your business here is done," she replied coolly, walking to her office door and holding it open for him.

Lyle strolled over to her casually, then paused to glance back at the pile of paperwork on her desk. "If you have information regarding Jarod, you have an obligation to share it with me."

"I don't have an obligation to show you anything. My files are my business."

"I wouldn't be so sure about that." He spun on his heel and walked out.

"Rat."

Miss Parker stalked back to her desk and pulled out her briefcase. After slipping the pile inside and snapping the case shut, she pulled out her cell phone. "Prepare the jet," she ordered. The phone was closed again before anyone could reply.

()

Miss Parker huffed impatiently. The Centre jet had made record speed to the New York airstrip. It was only after she caught a cab to Greenwich Village that her movements had been slowed.

She leaned forward. "Look, here's an extra hundred," she said with annoyance, sliding the bill to the cab driver. "Pick up the pace."

The tires squealed as they rounded a corner and the cab driver pushed the speedometer needle up another fifteen notches.

()

"Paul, is he here?" Miss Parker pushed past Paul the moment the door of Jarod's house opened.

"He's in a meeting at the moment," Paul answered with a stunned expression, closing the door and following Miss Parker into the entry room.

"It's very important."

"If you wait in the living room…" Paul began, attempting to stem Miss Parker's hurry.

Her eyes locked on his as she turned to him.

"I'll get him for you," Paul finished.

She read his expression and her eyes immediately searched the room, knowing that Paul was covering for Jarod. Her gaze fell on several suitcases that were lined up near the doorway.

Miss Parker abruptly turned away and took the steps up to Jarod's bedroom two at a time. The details of the room that had interested her previously were forgotten, as though they had existed in another lifetime.

She dropped her briefcase with disinterest in where it fell.

"Ma'am, please," Paul's voice called after her. He made no attempt to follow her.

Miss Parker could hear Jarod muttering as she approached his room. She pulled her gun out of its holster without a second thought. When she swung the door open, Anna was revealed.

The blonde woman was dressed in tight black leather, sitting comfortably on Jarod's bed, one knee raised and the other leg curled beneath it. She glared suspiciously at Miss Parker. If she was surprised by the appearance of a gun, she didn't show it.

Jarod was nowhere in sight but his voice was vaguely perceptible. "I know that we have a plug adapter. I saw the plug adapter. I just can't _find_ the plug adapter." Jarod's voice became louder. "Would you go downstairs, Anna, and ask Paul…" his sentence trailed off as he entered the room and saw Miss Parker. A few garments of clothing dangled from his arms.

Silence filled the room as Anna rose from the bed and smoothed her dress, looking sternly at Miss Parker. The blonde woman made her way to another doorway and exited into the hallway, never removing her suspicion-filled gaze from Miss Parker.

As soon as Anna had passed behind her, Miss Parker sauntered into the room, gun aimed evenly at Jarod's chest.

Several suitcases lay open on Jarod's bed, partially filled with clothing and other items.

Miss Parker eyed them before speaking. "Well, it appears we're returning to the status quo," she remarked blandly. "You run, I chase, just like always."

"No," Jarod held his hand up to indicate that she had the wrong impression.

"You never thought I was a fool before," she stated flatly. "You're ready to run. And if I hadn't showed up, I'm sure you'd already be out the door."

"No," he repeated.

"Were you settling accounts? Telling your mistress you had to leave?" Miss Parker asked coldly.

"Let me explain."

"Save it, Jarod. I'm taking you back to the Centre."

Jarod moved faster than her reflexes allowed her to react, and, within milliseconds, her gun was flicked out of her hand and her back was to his chest, her arms pinned to her sides by his strong grasp.

"Take your hands off of me," she ground out bitterly.

Jarod removed his hands tentatively and she made no move to reach for the gun. "My offer stands, Parker."

A sorrowful chuckle was her response. She turned to face him. "How can I possibly trust you?"

"I'm not going to ask that. I'm going to trust you. Isn't that what you wanted?" he asked passionately. "My trust?"

Miss Parker closed her eyes, dipping her head for a moment.

"Tomorrow afternoon, I'll return the Centre's information."

Sardonic laughter escaped Miss Parker as her eyes met Jarod's again. "How? By putting it back in the Centre's mainframe?"

"Yes."

Miss Parker shook her head in bitter amusement. "You know what, Jarod? I'm all checkmated out."

"If the information is back," Jarod continued, "we're free of the chase. We're only for each other."

"Back in the mainframe at the Centre?" she repeated.

"Yes. And then you'll meet me at the Wall Street Heliport at four o'clock, and we'll leave together. Or," Jarod paused, "or you can have sweepers prepared to stop me in any way possible." He looked at her meaningfully. "I'm trusting you."

Miss Parker lilted toward him slightly and his face showed the faintest signs of relief. He kissed her strongly, once, twice, a third time.

"I can't.

Jarod's hands held Parker's face to his, even as she began to struggle to get away.

"I can't do that!" she wrestled her mouth away from his.

Jarod held on to her tightly.

"Damn you, Jarod!" she fought against his hold. "Son of a bitch." She finally untangled herself from him, swatting at his arms as he tried to get her back. "Stay away." She made her way out of the room, moving rapidly down the stairs until she reached her briefcase.

She slid down onto the step beside it slowly. A few tears stung her eyes, and she brushed them off bitterly.

Jarod made no attempts to follow her.

(())

The air in Greenwich Village was heavy with moisture--evidence that it would soon begin to rain. Vaporous, grey rain-clouds had collected on the horizon, reaching overhead. However, the weather was of little interest or import to Miss Parker.

After leaving Jarod's house, she had chosen to wander the city streets, attempting to clear her thoughts. She needed time and space to think.

Several hours passed as she walked about aimlessly. She didn't notice when it began to rain. It was only when she passed a large shop window that she became aware of her soaked hair and clothing.

She stared at her reflection for a moment and finally pulled out her cell phone. It was time to get things back on track.

()

"I need to talk to you."

He opened the door wider and let her in.

(())

"This is Sydney."

"Do you see the leaves turning?" Jarod asked pensively.

Sydney leaned forward onto his desk. "What do you mean, Jarod?"

"Do you see them changing colors? Turning golden, red, orange, and mahogany?"

Sydney's brow furrowed. "Yes. They always turn in the autumn."

"I've seen them change before, but the colors seem different this year," Jarod mused. "I can't understand why."

"Perhaps you're looking at them closely for the first time, noticing something you took for granted." Sydney paused. "Something you won't be seeing for quite some time."

Jarod chuckled sorrowfully.

"Where are you going?"

There was silence for a moment. "I can't tell you."

"Are you travelling alone?"

"I don't know."

Sydney nodded, knowingly, though Jarod couldn't see him. "Will you call again?"

"Count on it."

Jarod disconnected the call, slipping his cell phone into his pocket. He studied the tree in front of him carefully, suddenly aware—its autumn leaves were the color of her hair.

(())

Static passed through the walkie-talkie in Lyle's hand. The noise alerted him to the fact that his sweepers had turned their earpieces on and transferred to his frequency.

Lyle pressed the talk button down. "Are you ready?"

"Yes, sir," Willie responded.

"You're in the lobby, right?"

"Yes, sir. Me and about ten other sweepers."

"Did you put people on the roof?"

"Yes, sir."

Lyle put the walkie-talkie down.

Broots tapped away at his computer, making sure that all of the surveillance cameras and their respective monitors were working properly. The combined presence of Mr. Raines, Mr. Parker, and Mr. Lyle had him jittery. He tried to ignore their air of power and dominance by focusing on his work. If they found out that he had helped Miss Parker keep information from them, he knew who'd pay the consequences first—him.

Lyle wandered over to Miss Parker, who was watching the surveillance monitors closely. "You did the right thing, sis." He grinned cruelly. His voice was full of undertones.

Miss Parker shoved him away. "Back off, Lyle."

"Now we just have to wait for him to show up," Raines wheezed, glancing at the clock. The hands were rounding on three p.m.

(())

Several large towncars screeched down a street in the East village. They stopped in front of a large, monochromatic building.

"Mark, stay with the car. Dave, you head up the fire escape," Dan Malcolm ordered the sweeper team. "The rest of you come with me."

"Got it," Mark replied.

(())

"Mr. Lyle, sir." An unknown sweeper handed his cell phone to Lyle.

Lyle took the phone. "Yeah… Goddamn it!" Lyle yelled in frustration. "Did she leave anything behind?"

Miss Parker aimed a confused expression at Lyle, but he was too busy listening to whomever was on the other end of the conversation.

"Look, just stake out the whole place, maybe she'll come back again…. No. No. _No_. Is Dan there?…. Put Dan on the phone…. Get Dan!" Lyle ordered.

Lyle finally turned in Miss Parker's direction.

"What's going on?" she asked blandly.

"The mainframe coder," Lyle stated plainly. "You didn't think I'd just drop that did you?" he continued smugly. "Dan ran it down this morning. It's a daughter, not his son." Lyle slid a file over to Parker. "She's been here all along."

Miss Parker opened up the file folder. A picture of Anna was clipped to a stack of papers.

"Tyrol Anna Knutzhorn," Lyle provided. "Jarod's known her since she was seventeen. When her father went off to the loony bin, she got shipped off to her aunt. Her aunt had financial troubles, which is where Jarod comes in. He helped the aunt out and put Anna through college. Now she works in one of the companies he recently acquired." Lyle turned his attention back to the phone as someone began talking. "Dan, here's what I want you to do." Lyle started issuing more orders.

Miss Parker closed the file, a muddled expression on her face. Images of Jarod kissing Anna on the forehead trailed through her mind.

"I-It's him," Broots said, just as Jarod appeared on the surveillance footage for the front entrance to the Centre.

Miss Parker watched the screen closely.

"We've got him," Raines said, wheeling his oxygen tank over to the monitor so that he could see.

"I'll call you back," Lyle flipped the cell phone shut while Dan was mid-sentence.

The unknown sweeper from before made a gesture indicating that he'd like his phone back, but Lyle didn't appear to notice.

"That's him," Lyle spoke forcefully into the walkie-talkie. "Trenchcoat, sunglasses, and briefcase."

"Yes, sir," Willie replied. "We've got him."

"Bring up the lobby on the large monitor," Mr. Parker ordered Broots.

Broots typed rapidly, co-directing the camera feed, and the image of Jarod appeared on the large monitor.

"Move in quietly," Lyle ordered Willie and the others. "We don't need to make a scene or we'll have 400 goddamn peons to re-educate."

"Jarod," Miss Parker mouthed softly, watching his figure on a smaller monitor in front of her.

"What the hell is he doing?" Raines rasped.

"I-It's like he wants to make sure that we see him," Broots commented.

()

Jarod stood still, a few feet from the Centre's entrance, making sure that the sweepers stationed around the room had a full view of him. Slowly, he pulled his sunglasses off and tucked them into his pocket. Then, he put his arms out slightly and spun around to make sure that the surveillance cameras were following his movements as well.

"Let's play ball," Jarod imitated a sports announcer, with a wicked grin spread across his face. He pulled out a black balaclava and slipped it over his head.

()

"There he goes. Black balaclava," Lyle's voice stated across the walkie-talkie. "Move in and get him."

"Go," Willie ordered the sweepers around him. "Move it. Quietly."

Willie pushed his way past a few workers carry folder, and a few more pushing carts full of paperwork. One of them said "excuse me," when Willie collided with her cart, but he didn't seem to care, continuing toward Jarod.

()

All eyes in the tech room were glued to the large monitor, watching Jarod move across the screen, apparently mainlining for an access stairway behind the elevator bank.

Suddenly, his figure dropped the briefcase next to another one that appeared to already be positioned on the floor. Almost immediately, a figure identical to Jarod's came around a corner and picked up the other briefcase."

"Shit," Lyle spat. "He switched the information." He picked up the walkie-talkie. "Get half of your people on the guy with the briefcase," he yelled at Willie.

"What, sir?" Willie replied, confused as the other masked man picked up the briefcase. Just as he was about to follow the new man, another batch of workers pushing trolleys full of paperwork came his way. "I can't…" Willie trailed off as another man in a balaclava walked by with a briefcase. "There's another one, sir."

Lyle cursed heavily.

"Where'd he go?" Broots asked, pointing out that they no longer knew the origins of the real Jarod.

"What the hell?" Willie's disgruntled voice came over the walkie-talkie.

"There are people with balaclavas all over the place," an unknown sweeper's voice came through.

Lyle turned viciously to Parker. "Did you warn him?"

"No," she snorted.

Lyle's stare was unwavering.

"No!" she repeated vehemently.

Mr. Parker appeared ready to intervene, but thought better of it.

Lyle finally turned away. "He knew you'd betray him. Goddamn it," he hissed.

"They're going for the access staircases," another sweeper stated over the walkie-talkie.

"That does it," Broots stated plainly. "Now we've got thirty two floors to cover."

"Son of a bitch," Lyle growled. "He's probably had people in the Centre for years." He hit the talk button on his walkie-talkie. "Find him Willie," he demanded.

"Is the data archive sealed off?" Raines asked.

"Completely." A sweeper answered.

"Completely?" Mr. Parker asked.

"Yes, sir. I guarantee that if Jarod tries to put the information back, it won't be in the main server room."

An alarm suddenly sounded.

"They're in the air ducts," Broots stated in awe.

Raines turned to the sweeper. "You should never guarantee anything regarding Jarod," he rasped.

The sweeper nodded, duly warned, "Yes sir."

"They're like rats in a habitrail," another sweeper commented, as hundreds of men in black balaclavas passed surveillance cameras, and were tracked through the air ducts.

"What the hell?" Willie's voice crossed the frequency again. He had turned s corner only to be confronted by more workers with carts. He was not amused.

Lyle pulled out his walkie-talkie. "Where the hell are you, Willie?"

"No…. what?…. I can't hear…. what?" commotion of all sorts came across the frequency as Willie attempted to respond.

"This is ridiculous," Mr. Parker exclaimed with anger. "He's got us running around in circles. Take control of the situation, Lyle."

"I am," Lyle replied coldly. "Stay where you are, Willie, I'm coming down."

Lyle surged out of the room followed by two unnamed sweepers, Miss Parker and Sam.

()

"What do we do? What do we do?" A sweeper asked in anxiety.

Another sweeper standing next to him cracked him in the jaw. "Pull yourself together. We'll do what we always do, pretend we're Michaelangelo and Donatello in the sewers."

Lyle pushed passed the two sweepers, on his way to Willie. He found the sweeper struggling under a pile of papers and several overturned metal carts. "Get him out of there," he ordered. All five sweepers went to help Willie out of the disastrous heap.

"What do we do, sir?" Yet another sweeper asked via walkie-talkie.

"Just start grabbing people," Lyle shouted.

A racket suddenly sounded nearby.

"Air duct."

Sam and another sweeper left Willie and ran quickly to the air vent on the wall. They pulled off the cover and grabbed the first person that came by. The man raised his hands in defeat.

"Take off his mask," Lyle bit out angrily.

Sam pulled off the mask easily, revealing Angelo with wide eyes.

Miss Parker fought a smile.

Lyle cursed violently, images of Major Charles eluding him, posed as Jarod, resurfaced. He grabbed Angelo by his trenchcoat collar. "What the hell are you doing, mush head?"

"Help friend," Angelo answered in confusion.

Lyle let go of Angelo in disgust. "Make sure he doesn't crawl back into the air ducts," he demanded of a sweeper.

"Yes, sir."

()

Jarod slid through an air duct and out into the afternoon sunlight, grinning like the Cheshire Cat. He knew every single breach point in the Centre's security system and perimeters, and he had made use of each. This was by far the largest orchestration he had ever conducted for the Centre employees—his crowning torment. He chuckled and ran for the woods, heading to his hidden car.

()

"Oh, wow," Broots mumbled.

"What, Mr. Broots?" Raines asked, his face hardened in anger.

Broots gulped. "The uh-the files that we thought Jarod took… they, um, must have been on a timed decryption, because they just reappeared on the mainframe, and no one besides me has accessed it."

Mr. Raines's eyes twitched and widened, his anger growing ten-fold. "The Triumvirate will not be pleased." He turned to a sweeper. "Radio for Lyle and Miss Parker to come here. Tell the others to shoot any remaining masked men—their welcome just wore out."

Several moments later, Lyle and Parker returned to the tech room with Sam and Willie in tow.

Broots related his discovery, Lyle cursed some more, Miss Parker attempted to hide her amusement, and Willie grunted in discomfort.

"It's been here the whole damn time?" Willie muttered in pain.

"Since the exact time that he supposedly stole it," Broots added. "He never really took it… he just hid it in the Centre's own system.

Broots' computer suddenly gave a beep. "Uh oh."

"What now?" Raines asked harshly.

"Other information is missing."

"What information, Mr. Broots" Raines moved closer to the poor techie.

"Um. I don't actually have access codes for that part of the mainframe, sir."

Miss Parker slowly slipped out of the room, hoping no one would notice her retreating presence. She wasn't so fortunate.

"What's in the other information that Jarod took." Lyle's voice stopped her in the hallway.

He ambled closer.

"No idea," she replied briefly.

Lyle nodded, without believing her. "Where are you going?"

"None of your business," she replied coldly. "Shouldn't you be in the tech room sucking up to Raines?"

Lyle shrugged. "I don't need Raines."

"Now that the information is back, I'm sure that the Triumvirate will be pleased as punch with your work," she sneered.

"No doubt." Lyle clucked his tongue. "I'm sure they'll also be surprised to find that one of the Centre's operatives ran off with their adversary."

Miss Parker narrowed her eyes. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

Lyle chuckled with dangerous amusement. "I'll convince them it's for the best, of course. You'll be out of their way. And then, we'll play another round tomorrow, just like always."

"You're a sick bastard, Lyle," Miss Parker replied in disgust.

Soft laughter echoed down the hallway as Lyle went back to the tech room. Miss Parker hurried out of the building, thankful that no one was following her.

(())

"Excuse me!" A heliport attendant called out, attempting to slow Miss Parker's movements.

She kept going, aimed for the glass doors that led to the airstrip.

"You can't go out there without an escort!" The attendant warned again. "Ma'am. Ma'am!"

Her travel there had been a blur, but she was determined to reach her destination. She pushed through the doors.

A figure in a black trenchcoat, holding a briefcase, was waiting at the edge of the airstrip, watching the water.

"Jarod," Miss Parker yelled.

The man turned.

Miss Parker's face fell slightly.

"You're Miss Parker?" the man asked.

"Yes."

"He wanted you to have this." The man handed Miss Parker the briefcase. Tipping his head, the man walked back to the heliport lobby.

Miss Parker stood listlessly, focused on the vastness of the water. It stretched on forever. Infinite.

(())

It was the vodka that finally hit her. Sitting in a padded airline seat with a cheap plastic cup in her hand and the sting of alcohol in her throat, like so many other plane trips--this was how the game ended.

The answers she had searched for so desperately were laid open in her lap, untouched, waiting.

Jarod's final gift to her had been the truth; something they had both spent years searching for; something he claimed he couldn't give her. It had been his final show of trust--unvoiced terms of the trade. He had given them to her knowing that she wouldn't search him out later--his continued freedom for her past.

And now she had her own freedom as well.

A soft voice, so faint she almost believed she'd imagined it, urged her. "What are you waiting for?"

A pause.

"Nothing."

FIN

Author's Note: It's finished bounces off of walls and crashes into things It's DONE! Cooked turkey-roast beef-canned canary-FINITO! I hope you've all enjoyed it as much as I've loved and hated it. Thank you to EVERYONE for their wonderful reviews. You're all amazing. kisses and hugs


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